Without You
by xxjmm96xx
Summary: Since that fateful day, nothing has been the same. Temperance Brennan-dead. Now a year has passed and Booth still isn't coping well. He constantly blames himself for her death. Wonder how he'll react when he finds out she may not be dead. B&B review!
1. Gone

_**Without you, the stars don't shine as bright.  
I see the world in black and white.  
Without you by my side,  
It just doesn't feel too right.  
The emptiness inside won't ever go away.  
Not until we are united again.**_

* * *

Booth entered the FBI Deputy Director's office, snapping the door shut behind him.

"Take a seat," Deputy Director Robert Kirby said, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk.

Booth wordlessly took a seat. He vaguely noticed it was dark in the room. Everything was dark to him. It was like a constant haze around him, preventing him from being happy.

Kirby was silent for a moment, and then leaned forward on his elbows. "We've paired you with a number of different partners, but you seem to have a problem with all of them. This can't go on Agent Booth."

Booth stared up at him with hollow eyes. None of those partners were Bones. His Bones. He could never work with anyone else. But how could he explain that to anyone?

Kirby was looking at him expectantly so Booth said, "I prefer to work alone, sir."

"You haven't been the same since…" Kirby didn't finish his thought, but they both know what he meant.

Nothing had been the same since that fateful day. The team had split up again. Cam and Sweets had stayed with the FBI. A very pregnant Angela and Hodgins had left the science field all together, preferring to stay at home. He rarely saw them anymore; it was just too painful.

"You better get your head screwed on straight, Seeley or I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go," Kirby said.

They both knew it was an empty threat; Kirby would never fire one of his best agents. Booth still did his job very well; he just didn't get the usual help from the squints, and so catching the bad guy took longer.

"You can go," Kirby sighed, seeing he was getting nowhere.

"Thank you, sir," Booth said. He moved on autopilot out of the FBI building and to his car. He barely registered the rain as it soaked through his pointless suit.

He had even stopped wearing colored ties and socks. He just didn't have the energy.

He unlocked the car and climbed in, just as a thunderclap sounded.

He sat in his car, looking out the windshield as the rain poured down in buckets. It mirrored his mood.

**_Because of his meeting with Kirby, his mind kept wandering to things he always tried to push to the back of his mind…_**

* * *

_**A Year Earlier:**_

_It was a dangerous case. And he knew that when he brought her on the case. He originally didn't want her involved at all. But she had insisted, charming him in her unique ways. _

_Damien Pratt was a serial killer who kept slipping through the cops fingers. Brennan insisted she could get evidence that proved Damien was guilty. Once she mentioned this to Kirby, there was no way he could get her off the case. _

_Booth remembered her excitement at being able to work on this._

_They poured over the case for hours on end. Brennan examined many sets of bones well into the night. Booth remembered one time, he had surprised her with a Chinese food feast. _

_They were so close to getting some hard evidence when the threats started coming. They were handwritten notes that nobody could trace. _

_Booth had begged her to stop. Stop well before she got hurt. But stubborn Bones didn't listen. She said she wasn't scared of some killer and that she had gotten death threats before and she wouldn't stop until he was behind bars. _

_He loved her determination. _

_Booth rarely left her side, fearing Pratt would attack at any given moment. _

_One day, he had left her. Rebecca had called him saying that she was running late and asked him to pick up Parker at school. Brennan had insisted that he go; she knew how important Parker was to him. She promised him she would stay at the lab. _

_Why did he listen to her? Didn't he know her better?_

_He was gone 10, 20 minutes tops. _

_Bones had apparently found some useful information and she made her way to the FBI building, ignoring Booth's warnings. _

_Booth had come back to the lab only to find Bones gone and no one had seen where she went. _

_He had tried calling her cell phone numerous times, but she didn't pick up. He had tried to calm himself down, assuring himself that she was fine and that she had just misplaced her phone, but he knew that wasn't the case. _

_Booth and a whole bunch of agents set out, hunting for a trail. _

_They had found a lead that led them to an abandoned warehouse. _

_Booth's heart was in his throat as he quietly crept inside, gun raised. The agents followed on his heels. _

_Since Booth was the first in the room, he was the first to see Bones' crumpled body on the floor. The floor around her was soaked with blood. He couldn't see her face because she was lying flat on her stomach. She had been shot in the back. _

_He remembered falling on his knees, emitting some sort of painful whimper. His gun clattered to the floor as he crawled towards her. The other agents dispersed, searching the warehouse for Pratt._

_Of course, he was gone. All the evidence with him. _

_Booth cradled Bones' limp body in his arms, stroking her hair, her face. Her eyes were closed and her face was unnaturally pale. In the dim light, it looked almost as if she was sleeping. Only he knew better. _

_Paramedics came in some time later and they had to pry Booth off of her to transport her to the hospital. He wanted to tell them that it was too late, but the words stuck in his throat. He had never seen her so void of life, so pale and still. He knew in his heart that she was gone. _

_He wasn't sure how he got home, only that someone drove him there. He didn't cry, not until he was safely behind his locked doors, where no one would see him. He had seen the picture of him and Brennan that Angela had drawn for them; he knew Bones had one in her apartment, too. _

_Booth went into a rage, tearing through his apartment, sparing only that picture. He didn't sleep the whole night; guilt was eating him away. _

_The next day, he happened to turn on the news. On it, he saw Bones' murder as the main story. Damien Pratt had gotten away. _

_The next thing Booth knew, he was at her funeral. It was a modern event that he knew Bones would have loved. A lot of people came, too. She had touched so many people's lives and she didn't even know it. _

_Max, her father, was there, along with the Jeffersonian team. It was even harder to see how they were coping with their grief. It just amplified his own._

_**Present Day:**_

He had been living in a fog ever since. The team had not survived, without Brennan to hold them together. Everything changed.

He hadn't realized how empty his life was, without her…

Booth banged his hands on the steering wheel loudly. Tears burned the back of his eyes and a lump formed in his throat, too big to swallow around.

A year later and it was still just as hard.

He laid his head on the steering wheel, feeling the cold leather pressing on his cheek.

It was his fault she died, his fault he let Damien Pratt get away, his fault for bringing her on the case in the first place.

He regretted not telling her how he really felt about her. He had come so close to telling her so many times, and now he would never get the chance. Never know if she felt the same way.

All his fault.

He let a single tear fall and he felt it make its wet trail, sideways across the bridge of his nose.

His determination had not faltered; he would find Damien Pratt and kill him for taking that beautiful woman away from this world.

He sighed, sitting up and finally finding the nerve to start his car. He switched the wipers on high and puddles of rain were flung from the window.

Flashes of lightning made the world look ghostly and haunted.

He wasn't ready to go home yet. Not ready to sit there and face the memories.

He went to the only place he knew that would drown those memories out.

* * *

_**So what do you think? **_


	2. Back To His Old Ways

Booth swung into a parking lot at the bar, the neon sign blinking above him.

As he got out of the car, he really regretted not going home and changing out of his suit. But there was no time; the memories were too strong, threatening to overwhelm him.

Booth took off his suit jacket and un-tucked his white dress shirt. He took off his tie altogether and climbed out of his car, making sure to lock it. It was a dangerous neighborhood around her, especially on a Friday night.

Booth ran a hand over his day old stubble on his chin, checking for stray tears. Not that it mattered; he was soaked within a few minutes from the rain which was coming down in buckets.

He hurried over to the bar's door and yanked it open.

He was immediately bathed in a soft glow, the loud rock music and chink of pool balls assaulted his eardrums. The smell of stale beer and sweat infiltrated his nostrils. He shook the rain from his hair.

He let out a tense sigh. The only way he was going to get through this was to get drunk.

He headed toward the bar.

* * *

Three beers later, Booth felt just as sober as he had when he first came into the bar. He could not get the picture of the beautiful auburn haired scientist out of his mind.

He leaned against the bar, propping up his head wearily with a hand making his still wet hair stand on end. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the world.

"Rough night?" he heard someone ask.

Booth opened his eyes to see an overweight guy with a handlebar moustache towering over him. He had a cigar clutched between his teeth.

"Yeah, something like that," Booth muttered, signaling for another drink.

The man slipped into the empty bar stool beside Booth as the bartender tossed over another beer.

"That sucks," the man sympathized. "The name's Steve," he said, holding out a weathered hand to shake.

Booth took a swig of beer and introduced himself, ignoring his hand. He wanted Steve to go away and leave him to his own problems. But it didn't look like that was going to happen.

"So, you up for a game of pool?" Steve asked, cracking a yellow toothed smile. He held the cigar in his hand, sending smoke flying into Booth's face.

He resisted the urge to gag. He hated cigars; they reminded him of his dad. Anything that reminded him of his abusive father made him sick. He felt the need to go over to Brennan's house and talk with her about his father. She would hold him and tell him everything was going to be fine. And he would believe her.

Now he knew better; nothing would be okay again.

Booth polished off the rest of the beer and stood up. "Actually, I have to get going. Thanks anyway," he replied, throwing some cash down on the bar.

"C'mon man," Steve wheedled. He pulled out a thick wad of cash, waving it enticingly in front of Booth's face. "200 bucks on the line for the first game."

Booth paused. He could feel the temptation tugging him back. He always thought his gambling problem was permanently fixed. But it was times like this that he wasn't so sure.

He felt the liquor sloshing around in his stomach uneasily. Playing one game didn't mean he had a renewed gambling problem. He refused to get sucked back into that hole again. It had almost gotten Parker taken away from him, and he would not lose Parker. He refused to lose anyone else that close to him again. But he could just win some fast cash and leave.

He could practically hear Temperance's scolding voice in his ear. He could see her giving him that cute glare as she warned to be careful.

One game couldn't hurt, could it?

Booth turned back to Steve. "One game," he agreed. "Only one," he said again as if trying to convince himself.

Booth followed Steve's yellow grin to one of the many pool tables.

"Rack 'em up," Steve instructed.

"With pleasure," Booth said, falling back into the familiar pattern.

Best of all, this was the perfect way to get Bones out of his mind.

* * *

Booth stood outside leaning against the brick wall of the bar. The neon sign blinked above him irritatingly.

It had stopped raining and now the air had a slight chill to it, indicating fall was here. Booth let the air coat him, sobering him up.

One game with Steve had turned to two and then three. Booth hadn't stopped until he ran out of cash. Turns out he was out of practice, and he wasn't as good at pool as he was shooting bad guys anymore. Now he was too drunk to drive home and had no money to call a cab. He was officially screwed.

He could see Bones' disapproving face glaring at him in his mind. "I know, I know, you were right," he groaned.

The few games of pool had gotten rid of his haunted memories of her for a while, but now they were back, full force. He was back to blaming himself for her death. He couldn't get her inanimate face out of his mind as she lay in a pool of blood.

He turned angrily and punched the wall with his hand. Immediately, he knew it was a stupid idea, and he clutched his bloody knuckles to his chest, leaving little streaks of blood on his white shirt.

He needed Bones, now more than ever. If only he could see her right now; one last time.

He sighed, digging his knuckles into his temples.

Booth pulled out his phone suddenly, knowing who he needed to talk to. He quickly checked the time; it wasn't that late, hopefully they would still be up.

He scrolled through his contacts until he found the old friends he was looking for.

He pressed send and waited for them to pick up.

* * *

_**Oh, poor Booth, back to his horrid gambling ways. Who could help get out of his depressed little funk? ….**_

_**Don't forget to leave a comment. :) **_


	3. Meeting Brennan

_**Wow, this took forever and I apologize about that. It's been crazy around the holiday season. I hope everyone had a happy holiday and have a fantastic new year! **_

* * *

Booth watched as the tires of the eco-friendly SUV crunched over the gravel of the bar parking lot.

His knees protested when he got up from sitting on the sidewalk. The seat of his pants were soaked, but he hardly noticed.

Someone came around from the driver's side of the SUV, approaching Booth.

"Hey man, you look like shit," Hodgins said, offering Booth a small smile which he didn't have the energy to return.

Booth looked up at Hodgins, giving him the once over. He was freshly shaven; his curly mini afro extending from all directions. His bright blue eyes still held a hint of his old laughter, but they held a more responsible, serious look in them.

"Thanks for coming to get me," Booth remarked as they walked to the silver van. "What, no more sports cars?" Booth said as a half-hearted attempt at a joke.

Hodgins chuckled as he slid behind the wheel and jammed the key into the ignition. "Angela insisted," he said simply, as if that explained it all. Which, it probably did.

They drove in silence for a while, until Hodgins felt compelled to say something.

"I haven't heard from you in a while, Booth," he started tentatively. "How you been holding up?" As if sitting outside a bar was any indication.

"Not well," Booth was surprised to hear himself admit. "Each day without her is harder." He leaned back in the seat, staring out the window as the dreary landscape whipped by. "I thought it was supposed to get easier," he said quieter, almost to himself.

Hodgins reached out a hand and clapped Booth on the shoulder reassuringly. "It's hard for all of us, man. She made an impact on all of us." He withdrew his hand. "Angela's been talking to Sweets. I swear it's the only thing that's helping her through this."

When Booth didn't answer he suggested, "Maybe you could try talking to him?"

Booth grunted non-committed. He didn't bother to explain that it would do more harm than good to talk to Sweets. It would remind him of the way things used to be and how they would never be the same. Not without her. As it was, he rarely saw Cam and Sweets around the FBI building and he was content with it that way. It was hard enough being in this car with Hodgins right now, though it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

He was sobering quickly and he wanted to climb into bed. His soaking butt of his pants was giving him the chill.

Booth watched as Hodgins sped past his street. "Uh, Hodgins, I know it's been a while, but I thought you at least remembered where I lived."

Hodgins gave a crooked smile, followed by an eye roll. "There's someone I want you to meet."

* * *

A few minutes later, Booth was getting a tour of the extravagant house Hodgins had built, especially for Angela. There was even her own studio, the walls covered in beautiful paintings.

Booth walked into the studio, once again stunned by how amazing Angela's work was, especially when it didn't depict dead people's faces.

Booth looked at the painting Angela had just finished, propped against the easel.

It was a picture of Brennan, bent over a table of bones, inspecting them. Her head was tilted upwards, her hair cascading around her and her smoky blue eyes seeming to look right at him. She had a serene smile on her face and on her hands were latex gloves as she was holding a skull. She even had on the Jeffersonian lab coat, her name tag gleaming. She stood out from the rest of the background which was a slate grey. But if he was honest with himself, he would be able to pick her out of a room full of people. She was all he saw.

The painting was so real, so life-like that he felt like he was looking at a photograph that someone had taken.

He walked closer as he noticed some writing on the bottom. In curly script, it read:

_Temperance "Bones" Brennan  
In our hearts forever_

Booth's heart was in his throat, tears threatening to spill over his bottom lid.

"I wanted to show her where she was the most happy," a voice sounded behind him.

He turned slowly around. "Hey Angie."

Angela flew into his open arms. He found it comforting to hold someone who was close to Brennan.

"It's great to see you, Angela," Booth said honestly. He held her back and took a good look. She had lost a lot of weight and he could see the grief was taking its toll on her. She had lost her best friend after all. She had a more dignified look in her eyes, similar to Hodgins.

Angela quickly brushed a few stray tears from her eyes. She brought their attention back to the painting. "I put you in there, too, Booth. She glowed when she was around you."

Booth looked closer and sure enough, he saw himself, leaning against one of the bleak walls gazing at Brennan a small smile on his lips.

"It's perfect Angela. I miss her so much."

"Me too," she said softly. She saw the longing way Booth looked at the picture. "Hey, why don't you keep the picture?"

She immediately saw his face brighten. "Seriously?" he asked, looking at her incredulously.

She shrugged. "Why not," she said, turning her face away so he wouldn't see her start to cry. She managed to keep her voice steady. "I can always make another," she added, even though she knew that wasn't true. Making that one had taken a lot out of her and she didn't have it in her to make another one. "If anyone deserves it, it's you Booth."

"Thanks Angie," Booth said, cracking one of his old charmer smiles, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey guys, come on down! It's time for Booth to meet the new addition to our family!" they heard Hodgins call from downstairs, obvious pride in his voice.

"Maybe that's why you look so different; last time I saw you, you were pregnant," Booth joked as they made their way down the stairs.

"Yeah, that's true. Wait until you see him, you'll fall in love. Hodgins and I sure did," she said, glowing with motherly pride.

"So, the baby's a boy?" Booth asked.

"Yeah, you would know if you called every once and a while," she teased, but she knew the reason he didn't.

Angela led him past a huge room that had all the baby necessities- toys, pack n' play, the works- and into one of the many living rooms.

Hodgins was already there, holding a little baby in his arms, swaddled in a blue blanket. Booth could see the baby's stocking feet peeking out from the blanket stubbornly.

Booth sat down on the leather couch and Hodgins came over, holding the baby out for Booth to take.

Booth took the baby with a gentleness Hodgins didn't know he possessed. He cradled him to his chest.

"We'd like to introduce you to Cameron Brennan Hodgins," Angela announced softly from where she was standing.

Hodgins went over to her and hugged her as they watched Booth with the baby.

Booth peered down into the cherubic face of little Cameron. Cameron was staring curiously up at Booth with light green, hazel flecked eyes. He had dark, curly hair. Cameron wasn't too little anymore. He was getting big. Booth guessed he was close to 1 year old, if not already.

"Well, hi there Cameron. I think I'll call you Cam," Booth decided and Cameron gave him a big nearly toothless grin. Booth laughed. It felt so good to laugh; he hadn't laughed in such a long time. Booth gave Cam a finger to play with as he looked up at the new parents.

"He's adorable you guys," Booth said, smiling up at them. "So, how is parenthood treating you guys?" he asked as Cam babbled in his arms.

"We are still adjusting," Hodgins said.

"Yeah, if you weren't so paranoid every second," Angela teased. "You are so careful with him. You can't baby him forever, you know," Angela scolded him, but inside she loved how great a father Hodgins turned out to be. "I always knew you'd be a good father," she told him.

"Sounds like you guys are doing just fine," Booth said, smirking. He remembered when Parker was born…Him and Rebecca were constantly fighting about what was right for Parker. Then again, he and Rebecca never got along. But they were the best parents they could be.

Booth looked down to find Cam asleep in his arms. He stood up, careful not to jostle and wake him and handed the baby to Angela.

"How'd you do that?" Hodgins asked, incredulously. "It takes us forever to get him to sleep sometimes."

Booth chuckled. "I've been a father before," Booth reminded him. "It just takes practice." Booth was surprised how fathering came back so naturally to him. It has been so long since Parker was a baby.

Angela came back in after putting Cam in his crib upstairs. "Well, hopefully he will stay asleep for the night." She collapsed wearily on a chair and Hodgins sat with Booth on the couch.

"You really gave him Brennan as his middle name?" Booth inquired.

Hodgins nodded. "It seemed like the right thing to do. It just fit."

"If it was a girl, her middle name would have been Temperance," Angela added.

They each fell silent, wrapped in their own thoughts about Brennan.

Booth was surprised how much better he felt coming here and talking with Hodgins and Angela and seeing Cam. He had been avoiding the whole ex-Jeffersonian team, thinking it would cause him more pain. It wasn't until now that he knew it was the exact opposite. And it was better then turning into a drunk, gambling loser again.

Booth stood up suddenly. "Well, I don't want to keep you guys up; it's late. Thanks for picking me up Hodgins. And congrats on Cam, he's beautiful."

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Hodgins offered.

"Actually Booth," Angela piped up from the corner. "Would you mind staying here tonight? There's something I want to show you tomorrow."

Booth hesitated. True, it was Friday so he had tomorrow off, plus he didn't have Parker this weekend, so he _could _stay. But he didn't want to impose.

"My car is still at the bar anyway, so if it's okay with Hodgins…" he said, looking for conformation.

"I'll go set up the guest room," he replied.

* * *

Booth lay on the soft mattress of the guest bedroom, staring at the shadows on the ceiling.

He was borrowing a larger pair of Hodgins pajama pants and no shirt. He had the covers pulled up to his chin because he was so cold.

Booth was really curious as to what Angela had to show him tomorrow. Maybe it was another painting?

He flipped over so he was on his side, burrowing deeper into the covers.

He couldn't help but notice how empty the queen sized bed looked with only him in it. If only she were here…

He closed his eyes, expecting the nightmares that followed.


	4. Nightmares

Booth ran frantically around, her screaming echoing in his head.

"Booth, help me! Help me! Aaah!"

The last one was a scream of pain and he knew Pratt was torturing her.

He needed to save her, but he couldn't find her.

The streets were empty; like he, Bones and Pratt were the last people on earth.

He ran, arms pumping and sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold weather nipping at his face.

The scene dramatically changed to one he knew all too well. The skyscraper buildings were replaced by one abandoned, dilapidated warehouse.

He heard her pain filled screams again, then her begging for Booth to save her.

Booth ran forward, stumbling a little with the force of her screams vibrating through his body.

His legs felt thick and he kept tripping as he tried to reach the door. No matter how long he ran, it remained just out of reach.

She let loose a blood curdling scream that made Booth double over, clawing at his ears.

She never screamed like that. She just wasn't supposed to. He needed to get to her before it was too late.

The last thought penetrated his mind like daggers. It gave him inhuman strength that he didn't know he possessed and he was able to reach the door, feeling like he was fighting through quicksand with lead legs. He yanked the door open with all his might, causing it to fly off the hinges.

He pulled out his gun, trying to let his eyes adjust so he could see inside the black pit.

Suddenly, bright lights flashed on, blinding him.

The next thing he saw was Brennan, sitting lashed to a chair with thick bindings. Then he noticed that the whole room was covered with snakes. Some were even crawling all over her.

Booth knew she hated snakes; her one known fear. He also recognized the snakes as poisonous.

Without thinking about his own safety, he battled his way across the land of snakes. He stepped on them as he went, loving the satisfying crunch of their bones snapping.

He finally reached her and began prying off the snakes that had crawled on her, even kicking a few of the ones that were crawling up his pants. But they were just replaced by more.

Suddenly, the snakes all disappeared, followed by an eerie laughter that bounced off the wall, echoing profusely.

Booth wasted no time in untying her; first her arms, then her legs, but she still slumped on the chair.

That was when Booth noticed the bite marks all over her body. He grabbed her face with both of his hands, cupping her cheeks. She gave a little moan in protest. Booth looked into her eyes. The lids were half open; she was finding it took too much effort to keep them open with the poison coursing through her veins. They were dazed and unfocused and from time to time rolled back in her head.

She passed out then, falling almost to the floor before Booth caught her. He cradled her like a baby in his arms as he tried to make his way to the door.

He knew that if he didn't get her to the hospital soon, she would die from the snake poison. But the door was gone.

Bones stirred in his arms, calling his name softly. He didn't know what to do.

That's when the snakes reappeared, slithering up him as they tried to get to her. He tried his best to keep them away, but there were just too many.

One of the snakes bit him hard, drawing blood. It caused him to drop Bones' delicate body on the floor and he cursed.

He reached for his gun to fire some shots, only to find that it had been lost in the sea of snakes.

He saw Bones, just out of reach, her arm extended towards him. He reached for her, too and he felt their fingers brush before she passed out.

The whole room of snakes shuddered and started convulsing. They flew toward each other, forming a body.

They transformed into Pratt, hovering over Bones' body, holding Booth's gun in his hands.

Booth let out a strangled cry and Pratt turned towards him. Booth stared in horror at the eyes and fangs of a snake on Pratt's face.

Booth tried to move, but he was frozen in place, his feet rooted to the ground by some unseen force.

Pratt raised the gun and shot her once, right near the heart.

"No!" Booth screamed, struggling against his invisible bonds. Tears streamed down his face and his body began to crumple. He couldn't breathe. He was too late.

_Too late. _

Booth found he was able to move again and he lunged with animal force at Pratt, ready to strangle him with his bare hands.

Pratt winked his snake eye at him once before disappearing, leaving his echoing and taunting laugh behind.

Booth ran over to her, kneeling down in the insane amount of blood around her. He could smell the tangy, metallic scent, making him gag.

He ripped off his shirt and pushed down on the wound, trying to staunch the blood flow. He knew it was useless, but he kept it there anyway.

His body wracked with sobs. Then he saw her eyes snap open.

"Think about it," she said in her clear, familiar, comforting voice. "Things are not what they seem."

"What?" he choked out, surprised that she was even conscious.

A second later, her body was gone and he was left clutching the remnants of his bloody shirt, kneeling in her blood.

He whipped his head back and forth, searching for her, calling her name.

He heard a loud creak before the building collapsed on him, swallowing his screams.

He lay, staring up at darkness, feeling the building on top of him, but wondering why he wasn't dead. Brennan and Pratt's face was swirling in front of him.

The one he loved and the one he hated. Both gone.

And it was all his fault.

* * *

_**Oh, please Booth, it's not all your fault…Have some hope. **_

_**Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I have more coming up soon. Be sure to comment. **_

_**xoxo  
Janelle **_


	5. Visiting Her Grave

Booth awoke in a cold sweat, trying to remember where he was. It was early; the half moon still twinkling in the sky, getting ready to leave and have the sun take its place.

His breathing returned to a normal pace and he recalled that he was at Hodgins and Angela's house.

At the foot of the bed, he saw the clothes he wore yesterday freshly washed and ready to wear.

He slipped out from under the covers, the cold raising goose bumps on his bare chest.

He slipped on the clothes, grateful to get out of Hodgins' tiny ones.

He stumbled out of the room, looking for a bathroom. He was as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake baby Cam.

He found the bathroom, marveling at its enormous size. He winced as the frigid tiles touched his bare feet. He shut the door with a soft click.

He turned and looked at himself in the huge mirror.

He saw sunken, hollow cheeks and no sparkle in his eye like he used to have. He saw his mouth, permanently turned into a frown or grimace. He saw his day old beard and knew he needed to shave but also that he probably wouldn't. He saw the lines and circles covering under his eyes from lack of sleep.

He turned on the faucet, letting out a rush of water.

He cupped his hands under, letting them fill up with water. Then he splashed it on his face. He repeated the pattern as he thought about last night's nightmare.

Snakes, Pratt, her, the building collapsing.

He shuddered, not wanting to think about it anymore.

He turned off the water and patted his face dry with a fluffy towel.

He took one last look in the mirror and turned, tossing the towel into the hamper.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

He approached the bathroom door, prepared to go looking for either Angela or Hodgins when a cry broke the silence.

He winced as the cry caused a slamming headache. He cursed his hangover. He listened as the cries built in momentum and he stumbled out the door, following the noise.

He couldn't remember exactly where Cam's room was, but the echoing screech was easy to follow.

Hodgins nearly ran into him as he hurried to the baby's room.

Booth steadied him as Hodgins let out a huge yawn.

"He didn't wake you up did he?" Hodgins said, speaking around the yawn.

"Nah, I was up anyway," Booth said, following him into Cam's room.

Booth took in the blue walls of the room. He guessed Angela had painted the bugs on the wall, but Booth couldn't help smiling.

"Hey, bug man," Booth joked, gesturing to the walls. He was pleased that Hodgins hadn't totally lost interest in his previous profession.

"Bugs and slime," Hodgins corrected him, a wistful look in his eyes. Booth guessed Hodgins missed his old job as much as Booth missed working with him.

Cam instantly quieted at the sound of his father's voice. He sat up in his crib and reached his arms up expectantly.

"Hey little man," Hodgins cooed, picking up Cam and cradling him in his arms. "Did you have a nice rest?"

Cam babbled happily up at his dad, his eyes blinking rapidly. Suddenly, Cam noticed Booth standing in the doorway.

Cam reached his arms out, waiting for Booth to take him.

"Ha, he remembers you," Hodgins said, stepping closer. "Do you mind?" he asked as he passed off the baby.

"Not at all," Booth replied, taking Cam. He looked down at his sweet, innocent face, almost entirely forgetting the nightmare. Almost.

Cam reached up and played with Booth's stubbly chin. He made the weirdest face when he touched it, and Booth couldn't help but laugh.

"You can bring him downstairs; Angela's making him a bottle," Hodgins said.

"Lead the way, Dad," Booth said, bouncing Cam lightly.

Cam took up a chant as they made their way down the flight of stairs. "Da-da! Da-da!" he shrieked, looking at Hodgins in front of them. Then he giggled and clapped his hands while Hodgins swelled with obvious pride.

Just as Hodgins said, Angela was waiting, bottle in hand for Cam.

She took Cam easily from Booth and saw down to feed him. Cam sucked on the bottle greedily.

"Did you sleep well?" Angela asked as Hodgins rummaged around in the huge pantry for his own breakfast.

"Fine," Booth lied smoothly. He noticed that Angela was already dressed and he assumed she had gotten about as much sleep as he did.

Hodgins poured cereal into a bowl and splashed in some milk. He slid into the seat beside Angela at the kitchen table.

Booth was burning with questions about what Angela had to show him, but he didn't want to be rude.

So he pulled up a chair and chatted with them until Cam was finished eating and Hodgins was on his second helping of cereal.

Angela went and put Cam in the pack n' play, who burbled happily at some toys. Then she went to Hodgins and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I'll be back soon," she told him, grabbing her car keys. "Keep an eye on Cameron please."

"Sure thing," he grinned at her, already knowing where she was going. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he said, his face uncharacteristically grim. Booth thought he saw Hodgins' eyes flicker to his face, but he must have been imagining things.

"Positive," Angela said firmly. Then she turned to Booth. "You ready to go?"

"Ready to go?" Booth spluttered. "Where are we going?" He had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach

"There's something I have to show you, come on," she said, not bothering to wait for him as she went into the garage.

Booth took a look at Hodgins who refused to meet his eye.

Booth shrugged. "See you later Hodgins. Thanks for letting me crash here last night."

"Call every once in a while," Hodgins reminded him.

Booth called goodbye to baby Cam and went to follow Angela.

* * *

"Angela, I can't do this," Booth said through gritted teeth. His hands were clenched into fists, his whole body shaking. His breathing was shallow and sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

"Yes you _can,_" Angela protested softly. She placed one of her hands on his. "It will help. Trust me."

His hands unclenched, only for him to shake off her hand and bury his face in his own.

"Please, just take me home," he groaned pitifully. "Please."

He had known subconsciously that Angela had planned to take him here, but it still hit him hard.

Angela stayed quiet as he worked through things in his mind.

He turned his head to look at the hundreds of thousands of graves that littered the Washington DC cemetery. Even though he had only been there once, he knew exactly where her gravestone was, the new stone looking out of place among the weathered ones.

All of a sudden, he was mad. Red- hot fury. He was mad at Angela, for her thinking he couldn't handle things his own way. He couldn't stand to be in the car with her for another second and he reached blindly for the door handle.

Finding it, he jammed the door open roughly and stumbled out. He slammed the door behind him but not before seeing Angela grab her cell phone and begin to dial a number.

He stood on shaky legs for a moment before forcing himself to walk toward the always open iron gate of the cemetery.

Behind him, he heard the van window scroll down with a soft whir that blended with the breeze.

Angela stuck her head out, phone clutched to her ear as she called, "I'll wait here."

He ignored her, afraid that if he stopped now, he would lose his nerve.

Deep down, he knew Angela was right; that he needed to be here. It didn't mean it hurt any less.

The anger he had felt a few moments earlier was gone, replaced with a gnawing sadness in his chest.

He felt as if he were slowly dying, slowly falling apart as he took each agonizing step in the direction of her grave.

It took less time than he thought to make it there. His head felt like it was submerged underwater and he struggled to gain control.

His blurry vision cleared and his eyes locked on the headstone.

_Here Lies Temperance Brennan, Beloved daughter and friend. She will be forever missed. _

Below that was the date of her birth and death; the dates far too close together.

A sharp wind took his breath away and he collapsed on his knees, burying his face in his hands and beginning to sob, his shoulders shaking.

He removed his hands from his face and scooted over so that his back was resting against the edge of the headstone.

His cheeks stung from where the cold wind bit into his tears and he could tell his face was red and puffy like it always was after he cried.

He figured he would run out of tears, but they just kept coming. The sobs faded until they were less violent and all he could hear was the soft rustling of the wind through the dead leaves.

The tears continued to sweep down his face when he started to talk.

"Hey, Bones," he said, smiling at the nickname he hadn't spoken in over a year. He stopped, unsure of what else to say.

Booth tilted his head back, gazing at the bleak, grey and white filled sky. Winter was coming; snow was on its way.

He searched for the heavens through the thick clouds, thinking that if there even was a God, He had turned his back on him a long while ago.

He took a steadying breath. "I know you probably think this is stupid," he remarked. "You always used to think so. I bet you're looking down at me right now laughing because I was right about the dead being able to hear us." He stuck his tongue out at the sky for good measure.

He suddenly turned serious, knowing that he needed to say what he always needed to tell her.

"I miss you, Bones," he sighed. "So much, you wouldn't think possible. I miss the way you laughed, how you always took things too literally, how you smiled that private smile just for me. I miss working cases with you, seeing you work for hours over one set of bones. I miss the way you understood me, better than anyone else, and I got you the same way.

"I need you, Temperance. You were my life, and I was too stupid to tell you until it was too late…

"I understand it was my fault you died; I blame myself every day. I knew I never should have let you work on that case. I haven't stopped trying to find that bastard; I don't know how he keeps slipping through our fingers.

"All I know is that my life is…empty without you. It's unimportant. You made it worthwhile; everyday a new adventure. I want you – need you - to come back, no matter how impossible. I want a second chance, a chance to make things right. I would never let anything hurt you ever again.

"Temperance, I…" he stopped. "I know you hate those three magic words, so I won't say them. Just know that I do. Very much."

He lapsed back into silence, thinking about what he said. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. He could still feel the hole in his chest, but it was smaller and didn't hurt as much as before.

He had never spoken those feelings out loud before. And it was all he could pray that she was listening up there. Praying to a God that might not exist.

Booth leaned his head sideways enough so that he could see Angela still waiting patiently by her car. Only it was now that noticed his car was pulled up behind it. He wondered how Angela pulled that one off.

He sat for a few minutes more, elbows resting on his knees.

It was then that he realized how exhausted he was. He hadn't gotten any sleep last night and it had taken him a lot to do this today.

He got slowly to his feet, reluctant to leave. A lump was already forming at the thought of saying goodbye again.

He started talking again, trying to comfort himself as well.

"I'll come back," he promised. "And next time I'll bring flowers. Daisies are your favorite; I remembered. Well…see you later Bones."

He turned, fighting the fresh onslaught of tears, to make his way down the path to exit the cemetery.

Not paying attention, he bumped into someone's shoulder.

He swallowed around the lump lodged in his throat to say his apologies.

The only response he got was the person tightening the black hood around their head and walking swiftly away in the opposite direction.

Booth stared after the retreating figure in surprise and couldn't help but think that the way their gait was so familiar, but he banished the thought. He wondered if the figure had heard his whole speech that he had given Bones.

He continued his way down the path, the wind kicking up swirling patterns of red, gold and green leaves.

As he approached Angela, who was now standing leaning against her car, he saw two doors of his own car swing open.

He stared open mouthed at the two people who came out.

This was too much. He collapsed on his knees for the second time that day.

Only this time, he was embraced on either side by Camille, Sweets and Angela.

And he knew he didn't have to do this alone.


	6. Turkey Day

_**Thank you all for the reviews! I loved reading them. I decided not to be too mean and put up this chapter right away. Anybody fans of Parker and his daddy? Well good, because we got some Parker action going on here. Read on! **_

* * *

"Dad, hurry! We're gonna be late!" Parker called from the car.

Booth knew his son was right. He leaned down, placing his fresh daisies next to another set of flowers. Seemed like Max was visiting today, too.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Bones," he whispered smiling, letting the words get swallowed up by the wind.

He turned and hurried back to the car, but not before he saw the same dark cloaked figure as before. He decided not to dwell on it; but he couldn't help but think that he had seen the figure a lot lately. He went back to the car, where Parker was waiting.

Booth jerked the gear into drive and they were on their way.

"How come you never take me into the cemetery to see her?" Parker asked, while flipping through the radio stations.

Booth pondered this for a moment. Parker was getting so grown up. He snuck a sideways glance at his 10 year old son. He even looked older; with his hair long and blonde.

"How about next time, you can come with me?" Booth ventured.

"Cool," Parker agreed. Parker thought doing anything with his dad was cool.

Parker stopped on a station that was spewing out swears every other word in the song.

"I don't think so," Booth said, immediately flipping the dial to a different station.

It just so happened that "Hot Blooded" blasted loudly from the speakers.

"This song is awesome!" Parker cried, bobbing his head in time with the music.

Booth wanted to close his eyes against the images that flew into his mind, but he resisted the urge. He was getting stronger every day. He bobbed along with his son until they reached Cam's house, where dinner would be served.

Booth parallel parked in front of Cam's house and opened his door. He went around to the other side to find his son already half way up the walkway.

"Come on Dad," Parker whined. His hair whipped wildly and he zipped up his jacket farther to ward off the cold.

Booth smiled and jogged over to where Parker was waiting. "Be patient," Booth told him, ruffling his hair. He placed a hand on Parker's back and escorted him up the stairs.

Parker rang the bell and they waited. Parker hadn't seen the gang since Brennan had died, and Booth knew he was excited. Brennan's death had even affected Parker; he missed her, too.

The door opened, revealing Cam. She was wearing an apron and her long, dark hair was pulled into a ponytail.

"Hello Seeley," Cam smiled.

"Hello Camille," Booth replied, chuckling as she glared at him.

"And hello Parker. Geesh have you gotten tall!" she exclaimed, bending down to give Parker a kiss on the forehead.

"I'm going to be as tall as my Dad, someday," he informed her, giving her a hug and smiling up at her.

"Of course you will," Cam said. "If you go into the living room, Angela and Hodgins will let you play with the new baby.

"A new baby?" Parker's eyes sparkled. "I've always wanted a younger brother or sister."

Parker slipped off his jacket and handed it to Booth, who took it and hung it in the nearby coat closet.

Cam pulled him into a hug. "How're you feeling Booth?" she asked quietly after Parker had left.

"Better than I have been actually," he answered honestly.

"Well, that's good," she said and began walking into the kitchen.

Booth poked his head into the living room and hollered hello to Angela, Hodgins and Cameron and followed Cam into the kitchen.

"Mmm, smells good in here," Booth said, and swiped his fingers in the gravy and proceeded to lick it clean.

"Oh no you don't!" she said, batting his hands away with a wooden spoon.

The doorbell rang again.

"Out, go get the door and quit it. You will eat when it's ready," she scolded, shooing him from her kitchen.

Booth laughed, but complied and opened the door. Sweets and Daisy was standing there on the stoop holding a pie.

"That better be pumpkin," he said.

"You're in luck," Sweets said, stepping inside. Sweets shed his coat and tossed in the closet. He pulled Booth in for a guy hug. Booth leaned around him and gave Daisy a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll go give this to Cam," Daisy said, gesturing to the pie. She went into the kitchen.

"You seem to be doing better," Sweets said, a familiar look on his face.

"Aw, not today Sweets. No psychology crap."

"Okay, I swear," he vowed. Sweets went into the kitchen to say hi to Cam.

The football game was on quietly in the background. Hodgins and Angela were sitting on one couch while Parker was on the floor, playing with Cameron.

"Hey man," Hodgins said, half his attention on the game.

"Who's winning?" Booth asked.

Hodgins snorted. "Not us."

Angela gave a small wave, still feeling bad that she had tricked Booth, though it was weeks ago.

He waved back at her, smiling to let her know she was forgiven.

"Dad, look he likes me," Parker said from the floor.

"Hi, Cam," Booth cooed down at the baby, who looked up with wide eyes at Booth.

"Well, this could get confusing; we have two Cam's now," Sweets said, coming on form the kitchen. He sat down beside Booth on the other couch.

"Guess I'll have to call you Cameron now," Booth sighed. "Too bad, I liked that name." Cameron let out a squeal. "You too huh?"

"So, who's winning?" Sweets asked.

"Not us," Hodgins and Booth said in unison.

"Huh, men," Angela sniffed. "Sweets, is Daisy in the kitchen?"

Sweets nodded. "Mm-hm."

"Hodgins keep an eye on Cameron; I'm going to help the girls in the kitchen," Angela said.

"Okay," Hodgins murmured absently.

"I can watch him Auntie Angela," Parker piped up.

"Thanks sweetie," she said and headed into the kitchen.

For the next hour or so, they all chatted and hun out, like a family and Booth had to admit it felt nice. Only one person was missing…

"Dinner's ready!" Cam called out from the kitchen and they all made their way into the dining room where a huge turkey was smoking on the table.

Hodgins settled Cameron into his high chair.

They all sat down and joined hands, saying a prayer before they dug in.

* * *

It was late and they were stuffed, so they talked as they sat in the living room.

Cameron was sleeping soundly in Angela's arms and Parker was leaning against Booth's shoulder drowsily.

"You ready to go, buddy?" Booth asked Parker.

"Yeah," he said, snuggling deeper into Booth's side.

"Come here, let's go get your coat," Booth said, helping Parker stand up and they walked into the hall.

Parker stood there, ready to fall asleep standing up, and let Booth put on his coat with no problem.

Booth had just zipped up the coat when Parker gave a huge yawn and rubbed both of his eyes, like he used to when he was a baby. Booth pulled him into a hug.

"Okay, let's go say goodbye and thank you and then we can take you home," Booth said.

"Can I stay at your house tonight?" Parker asked.

Booth looked on the precious face of his son, whom he couldn't deny anything. "Sure buddy." Rebecca was sure to give him hell over this, but right now, it was worth it.

The two Booths traipsed back into the living room, hugging and kissing everybody goodbye. They gave a huge thank you to Cam and they were on their way.

The car ride home was silent, with Parker leaning against the seat belt, sleeping and the radio switched off.

He enjoyed the silence. He thought about Brennan, on how they may have spent their Thanksgiving if she was still here…He banished the thoughts quickly, but it was too late. The longing and missing was already there.

Booth carried Parker into the house, amazed at how heavy he had gotten.

He tucked him into bed, kissing his forehead. He turned to go out the door when Parker stirred.

"I love you Daddy," Parker said, his voice thick was sleep.

"I love you, too Parker," Booth said, smiling down at his son. He backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He placed a call to Rebecca, who didn't put up much of a fight considering it was late and she was with her new boyfriend.

Booth sighed, not ready to go to sleep just yet. He headed into the kitchen, rooted around the fridge, and pulled out a beer.

Booth went back in the living room and sat down on his favorite chair, taking a gulp of beer.

He set the beer down on the table and leaned his head back gazing at the dark ceiling.

He turned his head slightly to the side and saw Angela's painting hanging on the wall.

He stayed that way, listening to Parker's breathing in the next room and settled down for another restless night.

* * *

_**So, no clues as to who the mystery figure was, but I'm sure you guys will get it eventually ;) **_

_**Isn't Booth such a good daddy? Yeah, I thought so, too. **_

_**I have a feeling you guys are going to love the next chapter, just saying. **_

_**Review! **_


	7. Back From The Dead

Booth opened the glass doors and walked into his office.

He had just gotten through talking to a witness over what seemed like a B&E gone bad. A man had been murdered in his house. Research showed the man had racked up a lot of debt with the wrong people. Booth suspected that someone had sent a 'debt-collector' to make him pay and when he couldn't, they killed him.

Booth crossed the room and sat on his chair, filling out a witness report.

On the desk was a manila folder file, peeking out from under multiple sheets of paper. He knew exactly what the file was, and he couldn't stop himself from grabbing it.

The tab on the outside read Pratt, Damian. The file was everything the FBI had on Pratt. Booth had been updating it since the year Pratt had disappeared. Though he didn't find much, Booth owed it to Brennan to keep trying.

Even though he knew he shouldn't, he opened it up and reread what previous agents had put in there.

It was mostly everything Booth already knew. About 5 years ago, someone had gone on a killing spree, murdering women from the ages of 16 to 35. It wasn't until months later that they found a piece of hair that they matched to Pratt's. He was charged, but the evidence mysteriously disappeared the day before the trial. He got a jury of innocence and the murders continued. They kept trying to convict him, but he slipped through their fingers every time.

Booth clenched the file, rumpling some of the papers. He turned the pages with trembling hands, knowing what was coming next. Photos and information of the victims.

He flipped through, each of the women and girls varying in look, but beautiful all the same. Rape, torture, then killing was Pratt's style. He only did it for fun and he never felt any remorse.

He flipped to the last photo and saw Brennan's smiling face looking up at him. Underneath the photo was all her information. Booth knew what was on the next page; he had written it himself. Everything that happened the day she died.

Brennan had not been raped. Tortured, yes and killed. She had been killed because she had found the information that could put him away. She was the only one who could have sentenced him to Death Row, and he killed her for it.

He snapped the file shut, not strong enough to relive the horrors.

He pushed the file aside, dropping it into an open drawer.

There was nothing else of interest in the file past that entry. Pratt had fallen off the radar, after that. No more murders have been heard of. The rest of the FBI didn't even think that Pratt was in the country anymore.

Booth didn't know what to think. All he knew was that he needed to find and capture that son of a bitch who took Brennan away from this world. If he ever did find that sorry excuse for a man, he would kill him himself.

Booth hurriedly scribbled out the rest of the witness report and got up to give it to the agent in charge of the case.

He was intercepted by Sweets on his way out.

"You headed home?" Sweets asked Booth, as he went back to his office to grab his coat.

"Actually, I'm going to do some Christmas shopping," Booth said. "I have Parker for Christmas this year instead of Christmas Eve."

"You're going shopping the day before Christmas Eve?" Sweets asked incredulously.

"Is it really December 23rd already?"Booth asked, confused. He pulled on his coat and looked at his phone. Sure enough, December 23rd glowed up at him, as well as the time. 6:00.

"You better hurry up," Sweets chuckled.

"You're telling me," Booth said, rushing towards the door. He paused. "Did you need something Sweets?"

Sweets hesitated and opened his mouth to say something. He changed his mind and instead said, "It wasn't important. Go do your Christmas shopping."

Booth gave him a curious look, noticing that it seemed very important, but he didn't have time to argue. "Bye Sweets," he called, and then he was rushing out the door.

In the hustle to his car, Booth felt a drop of cold liquid on his nose. He looked up and saw fat snowflakes falling heavily from the sky. He smiled as they landed on his face.

He hurried to his car, flicking on the heat. He checked the time again. 6:10.

Good, he had 20 minutes to make it to the nearest Game Stop.

He made his way down the street. He stopped at a red light, tapping on the steering wheel impatiently. The cemetery loomed on his left.

As he looked out in the dark, snowy night, he saw the hooded figure that he saw on Thanksgiving and the first time he went to the grave.

Perplexed, he wondered who it was. It was like he knew exactly who was hiding under the hood, but he couldn't make his brain spit out the name.

The light turned green and his thoughts drifted from mysterious figures to the video games he planned to get his son.

* * *

Booth carried his multiple bags up the stairs to his apartment. In one of them was a brand new Wii- the black one. Parker was going to love it. He even bought a bunch of games to go with it.

He reached his front door. He set some of the bags down to dig his key out of his pocket. When he slipped the key into the lock, he was surprised to find it was already unlocked.

That was odd. He always 100 percent of the time left his door locked.

He supposed he _could_ have left it unlocked; he was running late this morning, but it seemed unlikely.

The bags were getting heavy, so he went inside, not bothering to turn on the lights.

He set the dripping bags down; the snow was getting rough out there. He hung his coat up and made his way into the kitchen to get something warm in his system.

He finally turned on the light; finally realizing he wasn't alone.

It was the mysterious figure from the cemetery, sitting at his kitchen table.

Faster than lightening, he whipped out his gun, aiming at the cloaked head.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Come on, show yourself." He didn't once waver with the gun.

"I'll show you," said the voice, and only then did he falter. He grabbed at thin air, needing something to support him. The air whooshed out of his lungs.

"It can't be true. Impossible," he muttered to himself. He closed his eyes, counted to three and reopened them, but the figure was still there.

Thoughts flashed through his mind, none of which made any sense.

His tumor had to be back. It was the only way this could be happening. A brain tumor made more sense than what he saw before him.

He met the eyes of the figure- the smoky eyes that were looking at him in concern, trying to decipher his reaction.

"Hi Booth," Brennan said.

* * *

_**Alright, so obviously, you guys were right. Brennan is back! Now, let the story get even more interesting. Can you guess what comes next? Maybe I'll just leave you at this cliffy for a while….Kidding. I'll update soon. **_

_**I think some reviews would speed up the writing process quite nicely. :) **_


	8. Three Magic Words

_**Hello, ladies and gents. I can't believe this took so long to get up, please forgive me. Believe me, this chapter is the reason why this story was rated M.**_

* * *

Booth was doubled over, trying to stop the hole in his chest from getting bigger. After getting so much better, this happens.

One of his hands gripped the counter, the other wrapped around his torso, trying to hold himself together.

"I'm going…insane. That's…the only way…for this…to be happening," he said, trying to catch his breath and talking through gritted teeth. "My brain tumor… has to be back."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Don't say things like that," she said, but she looked worried.

Booth looked up at her, though he felt as if he were drowning. He could barely hear, but the voice was hers. All hers. He felt light headed, but he forced himself to stay conscious.

His eyes filled up with tears as he looked at her.

She was different, yet so much the same. Her hair was not the same auburn color it was before; it was much longer, well past her shoulders and darker. She had cut side bangs that half obscured her left eye. After she shrugged out of her coat, he could see she had on a low cut long sleeved shirt, skinny jeans, and heels.

She looked very different, but she looked good. She had on a bit more makeup than usual, but her cheeks were a natural rosy color as she blushed when he looked her over.

If he was imagining her, why did his mind conjure up this new version of her? Why didn't he remember her the way she used to be?

"Booth?" she called out hesitantly. It sounded like she was miles away.

Booth closed his eyes, loving the way she said his name. Of course, it wasn't really her; it was an apparition, a ghost.

"You're not real!" Booth practically screamed, his eyes locking with hers wildly. He banged his hands on the counter, causing her to jump. "You are not real. You have been dead for over a year! This is impossible. You were murdered by Damian Pratt. And it was my fault…Not real," he said, and proceeded to slump to the floor, not able to find the strength to hold himself up.

He heard Brennan get up, heels clicking, and next thing he knew, she was kneeling in front of him, her face directly in his line of sight.

"Booth," she called his name softly until he looked at her. "Booth, I'm right here. I'm really here. You're not dead or dying, I'm honestly here. I never really died a year ago, you just thought I did. I was hiding, but I'm back. I'm here now and I came to see you."

Some of what she said penetrated the thick gloom surrounding him.

He lifted up his slumped head, staring at her in confusion. His brain was all muddled and he couldn't make sense of anything. He guessed he was probably going into shock.

He reached out a trembling a hand, tucking her layered hair behind her ears. He cupped his hand around her cheek, stroking her cheek with his thumb. He could tell it was wet and he realized she was crying.

"Bones," he whispered, his voice cracking. He brought his other hand to her other cheek and the tears he was trying so hard to keep from falling were released in a rush.

Once he could speak clearly he said, "Oh my God, you're really here aren't you?"

He dropped his hands and she stood up. He followed suit.

"I'm really here," she confirmed. "Are you okay? You don't look so good…"

Booth guessed he looked like crap, but it was unimportant right now. Anger and passion were pumping through his veins- a dangerous combination.

Anger presided first.

He clenched his fists and glared at her, his wet cheeks glistening from the pale moonlight that washed through the windows.

"What the hell were you thinking? You made me believe you were dead, all this time?" He was yelling now, advancing on her, backing her into the wall. But she wasn't scared. This was Booth; he wouldn't hurt her.

"Do you have any idea what that did to me?" Her back hit the wall and she stopped, but he came closer.

He lowered his voice, gripping her arms in a way that was almost painful, but she was amazed at the closeness. When was the last time she had felt his touch? She couldn't remember.

"Do you know how much I missed you, how much I needed you? How much I tore myself up over you?" He was whispering again and the anger was fizzling out, leaving the passion, happiness, and the relief that she was alive and safe.

His hands slid down her arms and he twined his fingers with hers, pressing his body against hers.

Her body responded to his, and it was hard to concentrate with his cloying scent filling her brain. She had imagined this moment many times. "I'm so sorry, Booth-," she began, but he silenced her.

"You can explain later," he said, then, hesitating only slightly, he pressed his lips to hers.

It started off slow, testing each other. But it quickly grew hot and rough. Brennan disentangled her hands to wrap one around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, the other knotting in his hair,

His hands went around her waist, crushing her to him, no chance of escape. Though escape was the last thing on her mind.

She broke the kiss, breathing deeply, to murmur in his ear. "Make love to me," she said.

Her breath tickled his ear, and her soft, sweet scent filled his head, driving him crazy.

He kissed her again, this time matching her animal need for his touch.

He hoisted her up so that her legs went around his waist and he carried her to the bedroom.

He laid her down on his bed, her long, dark hair fanning around her.

She sat up and reached out for him and he wasted no time kicking off his shoes and climbing in beside her.

Her hands found the hem of his shirt and she broke the kiss only long enough to rip the shirt off him.

She moaned into his mouth as she ran her hands up and down his bare chest and he shivered, though it had nothing to do with the cold.

He reached under her thin shirt, feeling the lace of a bra.

He slowly took off her shirt, loving the way her dark hair contrasted her pale skin.

He gently pushed her to lie down on the bed as he tossed her shirt on the floor. She complied and he angled his body so that he was halfway on top of her.

He kissed his way down her jaw and let his teeth scrape lightly against her neck and shoulders. Her breath came in soft gasps and her nails dug into his arms in pleasure. He noticed that her shoulders had the barest hint of freckles on them. He had never known. He loved how he would now know all of her little quirks and he couldn't help smiling as he kissed her.

He kissed his way farther down, near her cleavage, as she reached for the button on his pants. He kicked his pants off and helped her wiggle out of hers.

She had on a lacy black bra and matching panties. She glowed in the moonlight and he paused to take her in.

"You are so beautiful," he told her, running his fingers through his hair.

She let a finger trace the contours of his lips, and then brought his head down to hers.

She could feel his whole body hard against hers. She arched her back and he unclipped her bra, sending the lace to the floor with the rest of the unwanted garments.

With a sigh of ecstasy, he kissed his way down the length of her body, going between her breasts and down her stomach.

She slipped his hands under the waistline of his underwear and soon there was nothing separating them, only naked flesh on naked flesh.

They lay there for a moment, Booth stroking her face. "I love you, Bones."

"I love you, too," she told him, all uncertainty gone from her voice. She leaned forward and whispered, "Three magic words," and Booth knew that she had heard everything he had said that first time at her grave.

They resumed their kissing, each of their tongues fighting for dominance. Brennan ran her tongue along his bottom lip and then sucked on it gently, loving the way he pressed his body closer to hers.

He ran a hand up her leg, making it so that it wrapped around his hip.

She felt him hard between her legs and then he was in.

She arched her back, nails digging into his flesh with the sheer pleasure. He pressed his forehead against the side of his neck and moaned.

When it was over, their bodies relaxed, tangling with each other. They were sweaty despite the cold weather.

Brennan shifted so that her head was lying on his chest. He was stroking her bare back and every so often, he would place a kiss on her head and sigh.

They refused to let go of each other, not ready to let go of the moment.

Brennan reached over and twisted her fingers in his. Booth pulled a blanket up and covered them with it.

"Promise we'll be together always," she told him. Before she met Booth, she never believed in relationships lasting forever. But with him, she knew she would at least try.

"I promise. I will always love you Temperance. My heart belongs only to you."

She sighed, content and relaxed against his chest, listening as well as feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

He held her in his arms, still thinking this was unreal and too good to be true, but loving the way her warm body felt next to his. He knew this was how he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

They soon fell asleep, and for the first time in a long time, Booth slept peacefully.

* * *

_**Next chapter is when you get the explanation of why she was gone, I promise. Any guesses? **_


	9. Tempe's Story

Booth blinked his eyes against the sunlight that was streaming into his room.

He looked over at the clock on his nightstand; it read 5 o'clock. He groaned, not ready to get up.

He then realized that he had actually slept, at least for a little while. No nightmares.

He smiled, turning over expecting to see Brennan swaddled in blankets beside him. But when he turned, the bed was empty.

He shot up, looking around the room. "Bones?" he called out.

Even in the other room, she heard the panic in his voice and wasted no time in rushing back into the room.

"Booth, what's wrong?" she cried.

She stood in his doorway, wearing one of his oversized t- shirts, hair in a high pony tail. All traces of makeup were gone and she looked more like the old Brennan he remembered.

He didn't notice he was holding his breath until it came out in a rush.

She was still looking at him curiously.

"I thought you were gone," he told her, unashamed at his reaction.

"I was just taking a shower," she said, and it was then that he noticed her hair was indeed wet.

"Come here," he said, needing her near him. He drew back the covers and she wasted no time climbing on top of him so that her face was buried within the crook of his neck.

He slipped his hand under the shirt, rubbing her bare back soothingly. Her hair was still damp and it was making his neck wet.

He sighed, not wanting to approach what was on his mind, but knowing he had to.

"Bones, you have some serious explaining to do," Booth said, and he felt her tense under his hand.

He sat up, dragging her to sit on his lap.

Brennan stayed silent, staring into space. Booth wondered what was going on in her mind.

He decided to talk, seeing as she wouldn't. "I am so confused. I believed you were dead for a year. It's insane to think that you were really alive. What were you hiding from? Why didn't you tell anyone what was going on?" He spoke some of his questions out loud, but he had a million more running rampant in his head.

"And what's with this?" he said, twisting her dark, wet ponytail around his fingers. "And the clothes? Not that I mind…" he grinned when she blushed. "But it's just not you."

Brennan rested her chin against her knees. "You're not going to like it," she warned, stalling for time.

"Bones, there is nothing more terrible than thinking you were dead. I tore myself up. Do you get that?" He twined his fingers through hers. "Just tell me what happened."

She closed her eyes and began to tell her story…

* * *

_**One year earlier:**_

_Temperance Brennan fought to get her eyes open; her lids were unusually heavy. _

_She groaned her voice thick and she tried to sit up._

_Big mistake, she found out too late. _

_Her head swam and something tugged at her arm. Looking down, she spotted an IV. _

_She tried to take a deep breath, but her chest was on fire and her breathing came in gasps._

_The monitors went frantic as she tore at the hospital gown she was wearing. _

_It was like a hole was burning in her chest and she tried to see what it was. Underneath the gown, she could feel a padded gauze strip. _

_Suddenly there were firm hands, keeping her from grabbing at the bandage, and forcing her to lie down. She didn't resist; the pain was becoming unbearable._

_The doctor produced an oxygen hose which she fixed in her nostrils and tucked behind her ears. _

_She started to protest, but stopped when she realized it was helping the pressure on her chest. _

_The doctor wrote something down on her chart and fiddled with some of the monitors. _

"_How are you feeling?" the doctor asked. It was a woman, with blonde hair and kind eyes. _

"_Better now," Brennan said, her voice raspy. _

_The doctor wasted no time in grabbing a glass of water and Brennan sucked it down greedily. _

_Brennan paused in her drinking to ask, "Where am I?" _

_The doctor explained while she finished drinking. _

"_My name is Dr. McCarthy. You're at Mercy Hospital. Do you remember what happened?" _

_Brennan remained silent. Of course she __**did **__remember__, but she wasn't sure how much she could tell this nice woman. _

"_I was shot. I shouldn't be alive," she said slowly, and that much was the truth. Then something else came to mind. "Booth. Is he okay?" _

"_Booth?" the woman inquired. "We have no record of him being admitted." _

_For a moment, she wondered if she had hallucinated Booth. She wasn't sure but she still wanted to see him. If Pratt had hurt him…_

"_Please, it is of the utmost importance that I see him," Brennan said, attempting to get out of bed, but Dr. McCarthy stopped her. _

_The pressure in her chest was back, but she ignored it. "Please, I need to see him." _

_Her gaze was drawn to someone walking into the room. He wasn't wearing a white lab coat, so he wasn't a doctor. He had on a sharp grey suit and black tie, looking very official. _

"_I'm afraid that's going to be impossible," the intruder said in a booming voice. _

_The man turned to Dr. McCarthy. "Could you give us a minute?"_

_Dr. McCarthy didn't look pleased, but she left the room, seemingly without a choice, closing the door with a quiet snap. _

_Brennan watched, uneasily as the man walked closer. _

"_Temperance Brennan." He didn't say it like a question. _

"_I have no recollection of who you are or why you know me," she said, glad her voice was stronger and betraying how nervous the man was making her. _

_He surprised her by chuckling. "No you wouldn't know me. I'm from the government." _

"_I didn't know me being in the hospital required the government to come visit me," she replied flippantly, refusing to be intimidated._

_His eyes narrowed. "Mark Brower," he said, by way of introduction. "The reason we are involved is because of who shot you – Damian Pratt." _

_Brennan tried to keep the surprise and anger that flickered across her face. _

"_Yes, the government has decided to get involved, seeing as the FBI isn't doing a good job capturing the murderer," Mark said. _

"_They're doing a fine job. I got the information they needed," she told him. _

"_Oh, and where is it?" he asked in a mocking tone._

_Brennan inwardly cursed. The information of course was gone along with Pratt. _

_Mark took her silence as a way to go on. Surprisingly, his voice softened. "You were lucky to survive today." _

"_I am well aware of that," Brennan snapped, not buying the nice guy act. "That does not explain why the government is in my room." _

_Mark sighed, cracking his knuckles. Brennan always found that habit annoying, plus it caused arthritis. _

"_When can I see my friends?" Brennan asked coldly when Bower didn't continue talking. _

"_You won't be seeing them anymore," he told her, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. _

_Brennan's mouth hung agape, staring at the man who was trying to boss her around. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, her pulse quickening. The monitors started to beat faster. _

"_Let me explain," Mark offered not showing a sign of remorse at what he was telling her. "With Pratt, we have had certain…issues with keeping out witnesses alive-,"_

"_And I have firsthand knowledge that can put him away for good," Brennan finished, catching on. She portrayed calm on the outside, but the monitors betrayed her. _

_Mark nodded, confirming her suspicions. He also sensed she wasn't going to come quietly. _

"_And if I refuse?" she said, sticking her chin out defiantly. _

_His voice became hard and evil. "Then we will make your life a living hell, as well as your friends. Not to mention, you will have a target on your back from Pratt." _

_Brennan knew he was right, no matter how much she wanted to get out of bed and attack him. There was no way she was going to put the people she loved in danger. What if something happened to Angela and her unborn baby? Or Booth? She wouldn't allow it. _

_Her voice was tight and she could feel tears forming. But she wouldn't let this bastard see her cry. _

"_How long?" she choked out. "How long do I have to stay away?" _

"_We will need some more proof. We are just going to wait around for him to slip up. But since he shot you, we believe he is going to lay low for a little while. It could be a long time," he told her. _

"_Where will I be going?" she asked. Obviously she wouldn't be staying here. _

"_We've got everything all worked out. You will be living in an apartment in Italy for awhile. You have a whole new identity planned out. You can pick out your cover up name. Before you leave, we need to dye your hair, make you look different," he said, glad that she was warming up to the idea. _

"_Italy?" She was shaking. She didn't want to start her life over. Without anyone she knew, in a strange country on a different continent. She didn't want to lose her job, her friends. She knew it rationally made sense to leave, but it didn't change the fact that she didn't want to go. _

"_We are covering all the costs and there is a fine university that you can teach at. No one there knows you, so they won't recognize you. I think you will find everything to your liking." _

"_Can…Can I see Booth just once before I go? To make sure he's okay?" she pleaded. _

"_I'm sorry, Temperance. We need everyone to believe you are dead. The only way to do that is to make sure no one sees you alive. If Pratt thinks you're dead, then he won't see the need to go after you again. You won't be able to see your friends. As a matter of fact, I am having my government people calling the press and your friends to tell them of your loss," Bower filled her in. _

_He came closer to the bed and surprised her by placing a hand on her arm reassuringly. "I know this is a lot to handle, but you will make it through this. Our priority is to keep you alive, and this is the best way we can do this." _

_Brennan jerked her arm away, feeling as if someone had shocked her. "I'll do what you want, but I don't have to like it," she said menacingly. "Now get out!" she screamed, making her monitors beep erratically. _

_Instantly, Dr. McCarthy was by her side, trying to get her to calm down. She turned to Mark. "I told you, you could stay as long as she wasn't upset. It's not good for the healing process. Leave," she demanded in a sharp tone. _

_Mark didn't leave right away. He turned back to Brennan. "As soon as you recover, we will put you on a plane. Don't do anything stupid." With that, he strode out of the room. _

_Brennan was aware that Dr. McCarthy was asking her if she was alright, but she was numb, not sure what to do. _

_After awhile, the doctor left and she was alone once again, with her thoughts as company. Not pleasant. _

_She remembered what she felt like when Booth had faked his death to capture a bad guy that the FBI wanted. She slapped him so hard and took forever to forgive him. Would he forgive her? Would she even see him again? _

_She could always try to run. Was it possible to stay off the governments' radar? Anyway, she would still need to leave, so there wasn't really a point. _

_Everyone thought she was dead now; she might as well go along with it. But she couldn't get rid of the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. _

* * *

_A month later, she was mostly healed. She had a horrible scar from where they had to operate to take the bullet out, and it still ached from time to time, but she was alive. _

_She stood outside the airport, gazing up, shielding her eyes from the sun. This was her last day here. She was leaving for a foreign country for who knew how long._

_She didn't even look like herself anymore. Dyed hair, extensions, new clothes. She wasn't even technically Temperance Brennan anymore. Her passport that was clutched in her sweaty palm read Alyssa Booth. _

_She recalled the look on Mark Bower's face when she gave him that name. She smirked a little, but it didn't last long. She picked Booth's last name just to piss off Mark, but it was a constant reminder of what she was leaving behind. _

_She couldn't believe she was leaving Booth without telling him how she felt. But it was too late now. He already thought she was dead, for a month now. _

_Temperance Brennan was gone. Alyssa Booth must forge ahead. It was her new life. Her only life. _

_She stepped inside the airport, not having a choice._

_**Present Day…**_

"Other than that, there isn't much to tell. I went to Italy because I had no choice. I couldn't contact any of you. I know how much it hurt you to think I was dead, but I couldn't do anything about it, honestly," she told him.

She was shaking, with anger or fear she wasn't sure.

"I stayed in Italy up until a few weeks ago. I flew back here, against the government's demands. I needed to see you, make sure you were okay. After seeing how much of a wreck you were, I knew I couldn't go back. I needed you as much as you needed me," she said, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks.

Booth pulled her to his chest and could feel her shaking beneath his hands. "Shh, shh," he soothed. "I'm so sorry that happened to you. And that I was a jerk about it. I didn't realize what you went through." Then under his breath he said, "I'm going to kill Bower."

"No!" Brennan exclaimed. She yanked herself away in shock. "No one can know I'm alive or here. Okay?" she said her eyes frantic. A wavy strand of wet hair fell in front of her eyes.

"Bones, easy. I'm not going to say anything. I won't put you in danger again. Ever," he said, reaching out to sweep the hair back into her ponytail.

Brennan closed her eyes, ashamed at her outburst. "So you're not upset that I left?"

"Like you said, you didn't have a choice. And I could never be mad at you," he said, giving her one of his famous grins.

Brennan relaxed once again into his embrace. He kissed the tip of her nose before making his way down to her mouth. He felt her smile as he kissed her.

It was then that he remembered what day it was.

"Shit," he murmured, abruptly ending the kiss and hopping out of bed.

Brennan gazed at him questioningly.

"It's Christmas, and I still have to wrap Parker's presents and pick him up from Rebecca's. What am I going to do?" he said, pacing.

"Well, first you can go take a shower, and then I'll help you wrap the presents. Then I can vacate the premises while you have Parker. How is he by the way?" Brennan said, readjusting Booth's shirt that she was wearing.

"He's missing you. Too bad you can't see him; he would have loved that…" He leaned forward, their faces only inches apart. "And thanks for the help, what would I do without you?" he asked, giving her a peck on the mouth.

Booth was reluctant to leave Brennan. "Want to join me in the shower?" he asked.

"Hmm, I need some time to ponder this… There is the fact that I already took one." she said, tapping her chin.

"So take another one," he said, and scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bathroom.

* * *

_**Sooo, was this a good explanation? I hope so. I bet you will never see what's coming next! Reviews are appreciated, so keep 'em coming. :) **_


	10. Someone's Watching

"So, what did you get Parker for Christmas?" Brennan asked, a towel wrapped loosely around her. She sifted through the scant amount of clothes she had brought with her. She made a mental note to go back to the hotel she was staying at to get some more clothes.

"I got him a Wii. You know the new one? It's black. He's going to love it," Booth said, absentmindedly. He had a towel slung low around his hips and Brennan found herself unable to look away at times, and she smiled inwardly.

"You got him a gaming device?" she asked, tossing her clothes on his bed and shedding the towel. She tugged on a bra and underwear, aware that Booth was watching her. "You know, gaming devices rot the brain."

"Is that so?" he asked, coming up behind her and nuzzling her neck.

"Mmm," she nodded, turning to face him.

He ran his hands up her sides and they found her way to her scar. He hadn't noticed it last night when they were making love because it was dark. It was a long, thin white line, right above her breast. He rubbed it with his thumb, and then bent down to kiss it.

She laughed then tugged on her shirt. "Are we going to wrap those brain numbing toys now?" She finished getting dressed.

"Yeah, just give me a minute," he tugged on some clothes and Brennan followed him into the kitchen.

He hoisted the bags he had brought in last night on to the table. Brennan took them out of the bag while Booth went and got some old wrapping paper.

"So how is the team?" Brennan asked while they wrapped. Their hands kept bumping into each other while they worked.

"Well…the team is not really together anymore," Booth said uncomfortably. "We all fell apart when you left." He rubbed the back of his neck and moved around the other side of the table.

"Oh," Brennan said. She hadn't expected that. She figured the team would always be together.

"But Angela and Hodgins had their kid. He's a boy; his name is Cameron. He is such a cute kid; he's getting so big already," Booth remarked, lightening the mood.

"I wish I could see him," Brennan sighed.

"They gave him Brennan as a middle name," he told her gently.

Her eyes filled with tears and she bit her lip. "That was sweet of Angela."

"She really misses you. She talks to Sweets twice a week, or so Hodgins told me. Hodgins surprisingly makes a good dad," Booth chuckled.

They kept talking as they wrapped; Booth filling her in on everything she missed over the year. He could tell it was hard for her, since she wouldn't be able to see them, but she wanted to hear it. She kept pressing him for more details and even the insignificant ones were important to her.

They finished wrapping and Booth looked at the clock on the wall. "I'll go get Parker now, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," she said. "I'm going to go back to the hotel I was staying at for the past couple months. I need some more clothes…if I'm going to be staying here," she said with a smirk.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he told her, laying the gifts under his tiny tree. He hadn't wanted to buy one at all, but Parker deserved it. After he settled the gifts, he came back over to Brennan, who was watching him.

"What?" he asked, pulling her into his awaiting arms.

"It's just so surreal, being here…with you; I never thought it would happen," she told him honestly.

"Well, I'm glad it did," he said, bending down and kissing her. And once they started, they couldn't stop.

"Alright, alright, get going," Brennan scolded, but she was giggling. She warded Booth off with one hand, but he simply leaned over and kissed her once more.

"Fine, let's go," he said, locating his car keys. "You want a ride?"

"No thank you. The hotel isn't that far away and I like walking. Besides," she said, slipping on her coat that had been abandoned in the kitchen the night before, "I don't think it's a good idea for people to see us together. They might get suspicious."

"I guess you're right," he admitted, but he didn't look happy with the prospect of her roaming the streets. He just got her back; no way was he going to lose her again.

"I'll go out first, and then you wait a while and then leave to go get Parker," she suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed easily. He reached out and grabbed her hand. "Be safe," he said, meeting her eyes. She squeezed his hand in reassurance and then he let his drop back to his side.

She made her way to the door. She swung it open and then paused in the open doorway. She turned back and said, "Merry Christmas, Booth."

He simply smiled as she made her way out, but he had a nagging feeling like he should have insisted on giving her a ride, no matter what suspicions he had in mind.

* * *

Brennan took the stairs down to the front door of Booth's apartment building. She couldn't stand being in enclosed spaces; one of the horrors that had plagued her since she had been buried alive with Hodgins. Booth had saved her then, too.

She made her way outside, expecting blinding sun, but she instead got blasted by a gust of wind, causing her to bury deeper into her coat.

It was snowing out, but it was a light, fluffy kind of snow that sort of just floated down. It wasn't sticking to the ground yet, but it was only a matter of time, she knew.

She made her way down the sidewalk, towards the hotel, avoiding other people's gaze. She started humming "White Christmas" to herself. Contrary to Booth's beliefs, she did know some Christmas songs.

* * *

_Click_ went the camera as it snapped a picture. A perfect shot, a straight on of her face as she looked across the street.

So lost in her own thoughts, Brennan didn't even notice the man creeping on the other side of the apartment building.

_She really shouldn't be so careless, _he thought to himself. He reached into his coat pocket with numb fingers and pulled out his cell phone, pressing the speed dial.

_Speak, _a hardened voice rasped on the other end.

"It's Mark Bower," he mumbled into the phone, as he began walking in the opposite direction of Brennan.

_Any news?_

"I just spotted her; I didn't think she would be stupid enough to actually come back," Bower said to the person on the other line.

_I warned you she would. You're lucky I was one step ahead of the game. _

Bower swallowed nervously, hoping his boss wouldn't hear it. "Yes sir."

_Now listen carefully, and be sure you don't screw up again. I want you to go to the press with this. I want to see Temperance Brennan alive on tomorrow's headlines. Then you will petition with the rest of the government to get her back on Witness Protection. No one will suspect a thing. Got it? _

Something in his tone suggested that there was only one correct answer. "I got it."

_Good. _

Then silence.

Bower pulled the phone away from his ear and slipped it back into the coat pocket. Despite the snow that was fluttering around him, his hands were prickled with sweat.

He tried to appear casual as he walked across the street to his inconspicuous car. As soon as he shut the door, he leaned his head back and tried to catch his breath.

He banged his hands on the steering wheel, causing the car to shake. From above, a picture fluttered down onto his lap. He picked it up and looked at his wife and two kids with tenderness in his eyes.

He took a deep breath and he finally knew he would have the strength to do what had to be done. He reached across into the glove compartment and pulled out a package envelope. He took a pen and paper and wrote a quick summary of what his boss told him to.

Next stop was to develop those pictures and then to submit an anonymous news story to the press. Or else… Working with a serial killer could get tricky.

_Merry Christmas to me, _he thought glumly to himself.

~~~~  
_**Sorry guys, it has taken me forever to post this. But now it's up and I hope you enjoyed. So, me thinks Brennan should stay away from Mark Bower. So what are your thoughts on this rogue government agent? Comment :) **_


	11. At It Again

_**Sorry guys, I know I haven't been updating, but school was stressing me out. But now that it's summer, I'll make sure I keep updating. So don't worry, I haven't given up on this story. I know this chapter is short, but bear with me, the next one will be better. **_

* * *

The living room looked like a tornado hit it.

Shredded wrapping paper littered the floor; the presents Booth had wrapped just hours before were all opened.

Parker was enthralled with the Wii; he had immediately asked Booth to set it up and Booth complied. Now Parker was totally absorbed in the baseball game, swinging his arm like crazy.

Booth smiled as he walked around with a big trash bag and picked up the wrapping paper. He loved seeing his son happy.

Parker hardly even stirred when Booth's cell phone rang shrilly from his pocket.

Booth fished the phone out of his pocket, glancing at the ID. Rebecca. What could she possibly want? He had just picked Parker up a few hours ago.

"Rebecca?" Booth said her name civilly. Parker looked up at the mention of his mother's name. Booth gave him a reassuring smile and he went back to his game, satisfied. Booth walked into the other room, trash bag still in hand.

"Is something wrong?" Booth asked in a low voice.

"No, no, nothing's wrong. Why do you always assume something is wrong?" Rebecca tittered on the other end. Booth knew her well enough that she had to ask something and she was uncomfortable doing it.

Booth sighed. "Why are you calling then?" he asked her. He waited.

"I… We…Well, Drew and I…" Booth resisted the urge to roll his eyes and scoff. Drew was her new boyfriend and Booth was not happy at Drew playing father figure to Parker. Not that he wasn't a nice guy, but… Booth realized Rebecca was still talking and he made it a point to listen. "Drew's family just called and they want us to bring Parker down so we can all have dinner together. Is that okay?"

Booth remained silent. Was she seriously asking him this? Christmas was his day with his son. He shouldn't have to share that time.

Booth peered through the doorway, watching his son. Booth tensed, ready to battle it out with Rebecca right then and there. Then Parker looked back at him and gave him a huge smile. Booth gave a resigned sigh and answered Rebecca. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

He didn't give Rebecca a chance to say anything more, he just simply hung up.

Booth discarded the trash bag in the kitchen and went over to Parker, who was still hooked on the Wii.

"Hey Dad, thanks again for this. It's awesome!" Parker said, pausing the game.

"No problem buddy," Booth said, rumpling his hair. "Now, let's go get your coat on, we have to head out."

"Where are we going?" Parker asked, shutting down the Wii, just like Booth had shown him.

"Well, your mom wants to take you to Drew's parent's house to have dinner," Booth said, clearing his throat.

Parker grabbed his coat and slipped it on. "I thought we were going to eat here."

"Well, change of plans, buddy. It's alright; you're going to have lots of fun there." Booth leaned forward and said confidentially, "I bet they have presents for you, too."

"You think?" Parker asked hopefully.

Booth nodded. "You ready?"

"Yeah, but can I bring some of my new toys?" Parker asked, sweetly.

"Well…only a couple. You want to have something here to play with right?" Booth said, and watched as Parker meticulously picked out the toys he wanted to take with him.

"Alright, we can go now," Parker said, clutching the toys as he and his father made their way outside.

* * *

No sooner had Booth dropped Parker off then his cell phone rang shrilly. He dug it out of his pockets with numb hands and turned up the heater in his car.

"Booth," he said recognizing the chief's number.

"Hate to bother you on Christmas son, but this is really important," Kirby stated. He continued without pause. "There's been another murder, all we know is there's definitely evidence of foul play. But I have a feeling that this is connected to Pratt. I managed to get Angela, Hodgins, and Sweets to work with you and Cam on the case."

Booth resisted the urge to react at the mention of Pratt. He also found it surprising that the team was coming back together to work on the case. Then again, they wanted to get Brennan's 'murderer' as much as he did. "Alright, sir."

"You can wait till tomorrow. But be at the Jeffersonian bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir."

"And Merry Christmas to you Booth."

"You as well," Booth replied and then hung up.

The heat was blasting as he pulled off from the curb.

So Pratt was at it again. Well this time, he would bring him down for sure.


	12. Reunited

_**So here's an interesting chapter to make up for the short one before. Sorry, trying to get back in the swing of things here. **_

* * *

Brennan opened her eyes to find Booth watching her.

"What?" she asked groggily, hoping her hair didn't look as bad as she knew it did.

"I just can't get over waking up with you," he said

Brennan leaned over and curled up against Booth's bare chest.

"I would be very content never to leave this spot," she murmured, her eyes half closed.

He leaned over and kissed both her eye lids. "Sorry, but I have to get going."

"Where?" Brennan said, trying to force herself awake. She recalled Booth's text saying that he had to bring Parker back early and that she could come back, but she had no recollection of him going anywhere the next day.

"The Jeffersonian actually. A new murder victim has turned up," Booth said, craftily leaving out the Pratt connection. He regretted saying anything when he saw the wistful look in her eye regarding the Jeffersonian.

"Where was the body found? Was it in good condition?" Brennan asked. It had been so long since she worked in her anthropology field and she honestly missed it.

She got up and went in the kitchen to put on some coffee. When she came back, Booth was buried in the closet, pulling out one of his many suit and ties.

"They didn't give me any details on the case," Booth said. "Only that there was evidence of foul play."

"Hmm," Brennan said, thinking to herself as Booth got dressed.

"Oh no," Booth said, straightening his tie in the mirror. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Sound of what?" Brennan asked curiously, for she hadn't hear anything.

"You're thinking," he said, turning to face her, "about finding a way to work this case. And I'm telling you know it's not a good idea."

Her eyes widened slightly in shock. That had actually been _exactly _what she was thinking. When had she become so transparent?

She got dressed as Booth poured two cups of coffee in to-go plastic cups and then they were on their way.

They stepped over the threshold into the cold, nippy air and they were instantly surrounded by a horde of people. Camera bulbs went off all over the place and microphones and recorders were being shoved in their faces.

Brennan dropped her cup in surprise, scalding coffee dripping down the sidewalk.

"Take down your hair," Booth said. He had to shout to be heard over the pressing questions that were being shouted from all directions.

…"_Dr. Brennan, is that you? _

"_Are you really alive?"_

"_Has Agent Booth been keeping you here this whole time?"_

"_Why did you fake your own death?" _

"_Where did you go?" _

Brennan took out her hair, shaking it to put in front of her face. Booth put one arm around to shield her and to guide her to his car. She turned her face in, hoping no one got a good enough shot.

Slowly, they pushed their way through the crowd of reporters and news vans and made it to Booth's van. Booth opened the passenger door and made sure Brennan got in okay, and then forced his way back through the crowd to get in the driver side.

All the while, the reporters didn't give up. They kept pressing in like a swarm, even as Booth tried to pull away from the curb.

Eventually he got enough space to speed away. Brennan looked behind to see them crawling back in their vans, probably gearing up to follow them.

Booth pulled over a couple blocks away from his apartment. He banged his hands roughly on the steering wheel. "Shit, how the hell did this happen?" he exclaimed.

Brennan was shaking. She knew this was not good. No one was supposed to know she was here, or alive. This was just plain bad.

They sat there in silence, trying to figure out what just happened. Brennan managed to calm herself down as Booth took a deep breath and pulled out from the curb.

"Looks like you're going to be coming to the Jeffersonian after all," Booth said.

"I don't think -," Brennan started.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight. You're not safe now," he said, cutting her off. "This will be all over the news, and until we have Pratt in custody, you're in danger."

Brennan leaned back in the seat, laying her head against the headrest. She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to stop the headache that was already pounding. She wished she had her coffee.

"I have to find that leak," Booth muttered, more to himself. "You're sure that you didn't tell anyone else you were here?"

"Of course I'm sure," she snapped. She hated being rude to him, but it wasn't like she was stupid. Nerves were just frayed right now and they were both just stressed.

He reached over and took her hand as she looked out the window. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

Booth walked through the doors, Brennan following close behind, but staying out of sight.

It had appeared that Kirby had indeed managed to get the team back together. Even Sweets was there. Everyone was gathered on the platform area, huddled around a computer that had the news on.

Some of the commentary from the news drifted back to him…

_We have received an anonymous tip that Dr. Temperance Brennan, who died a little over a year ago, is actually alive and well, living again in D.C. _What looked like a surveillance photo of Brennan appeared on the screen. It was taken right outside his apartment. _Just a few minutes ago, Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI was seen leaving his apartment with a woman. Our reporters were on the scene…_ The video clip played through the horror that just unfolded minutes before. _We are still not sure if this woman is indeed the supposedly deceased Dr. Brennan. And if this is indeed Temperance Brennan, where did she go? And why did she fake her own death? So many questions that need to be answered. We'll have more on the story later. Back to you, George._

The group remained frozen, staring at the screen. They weren't sure what to make of what they had just seen.

Booth figured now was as good a time as any to clear the air. This was not going to go down well.

He cleared his throat, causing everyone to whip around. Everyone was very jumpy.

"Oh, Booth. What's going on?" Angela wasn't sure how to react to what she had just seen. She sure as hell didn't believe that Brennan was alive and found it horrible that the news would prey on something like that. But she also felt betrayed that Booth had found someone else. She refused to say any of this out loud though, instead, making him do the talking.

Everyone else remained silent, waiting for Booth to say something.

Booth was at a loss for words, wondering how to approach this.

Brennan had gone all weak kneed being in her old work place. It made it worse hearing Angela talk, her best friend who she hadn't seen in a year. She wasn't sure if she was going to pass out and she grabbed onto the back of Booth suit jacket.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he just stepped aside, revealing Brennan behind him.

At first, they didn't recognize her, and rightfully so; she looked so different.

But it was Angela who first realized it was her. Angela dropped to her knees, eyes wide, a strangled cry escaping from her mouth. "Brenn…"

"Hey Ange," Brennan said, smiling through her tears and running over to her best friend and collapsing on her in a huge hug.

"I…thought…you…were…dead," she hiccupped, still sobbing. She clung to Brennan, who was doing the same.

It took the others an instant longer to realize their friend was really here, alive and well, and certainly not well.

The rest of them fell to the ground, joining in the group hug. Booth watched it unfold from the side. He wasn't sure if this was the best idea, revealing that Brennan was alive. But he didn't think he could work with these people, knowing what he knew. It wasn't fair.

Sweets was the only one who hesitated, staring at Booth. Booth knew he would have to explain everything to his psychologist and friend later. He could just imagine the look on Sweets face when he told him what had happened with him and Brennan.

Brennan got up, Angela still halfway clinging to her. She gave everyone a hug in turn, and everyone was so happy to see her.

It didn't seem that much work was being done today. Cam suggested coffee and to give Brennan a chance to tell her story.

Nobody objected and they made their way to Cam's office.

* * *

_**Awwh, the gang's back together again! I'm sure you've all been waiting for this as much as I looked forward to finally writing it. So be sure to comment, and I'll get the next chapter up ASAP. **_

_**xoxo  
Janelle**_


	13. Replaced?

"Guys, stop looking at me like that," Brennan protested.

Everyone could not stop staring at her, looking at her as if she was a ghost.

She had just finished retelling her story, just as she had for Booth. She could barely believe it herself that after all this she ended up here, at home, once again.

None of them were mad at her either. They accepted that she didn't have a choice, and they were just happy to see her back again.

"So how did the press find out if Booth was the only one who knew you were back here?" Hodgins asked. This story played right into his government conspiracies and he was loving it.

"We have no clue, but I'm going to find out," Booth vowed. He looked back over at Brennan who was talking animatedly with Angela. He caught snippets about Cameron, and how she couldn't wait to meet him. Angela was also gushing over Brennan's 'awesome hair and newfound fashion sense.'

He couldn't help but smile. This was how things should be; Brennan was home with her friends and family. Right where she belonged; and she wasn't going anywhere ever again.

They all sat, catching up for about 15 minutes longer. Then, the phone on Cam's desk rang shrilly.

"Excuse me," she apologized as they all jumped at the sounds. "Camille," she answered. She paused, listening to whoever was on the other line. "Alright, thank you."

She hung up and turned to them. "The bones for the new case just arrived."

Everyone was silent, not wanting to leave, but knowing they had to. The silence turned uncomfortable as everyone turned to stare at Brennan, realizing that Pratt was the one who supposedly murdered her and they were now going to try and bring him down with these remains.

Only, Brennan didn't realize what was going on and looked on confused. Booth had still yet to mention that Pratt was suspected in this murder.

"Well, you guys better get going," Brennan said, taking charge just as she always used to. "Maybe there's something I can do to help."

Before anyone could stop her, she got up and walked out of the office, heading straight to the platform.

Booth jumped up, followed by the rest of the gang, and hurriedly went to go catch up with Brennan. He hoped she didn't try to get up on the platform…

"Hey, let me up there," she said, standing with her arms crossed in front of the guards.

"Can't let you up without a pass," the guard said sternly. Of course, he was just doing his job, but Brennan obviously didn't care at the moment.

Booth sidled up to her and caught her arm. "Booth, they won't let me up there."

"Well," Booth started, trying to put her down gently, but knowing there probably was no easy way to do that. "Technically, you don't work here anymore, babe."

Brennan ignored the raised eyebrow look from Angela and turned to face Booth. "I don't care. Obviously this guy's new because he doesn't know who I am," she snapped.

"Sweetie, no one knows you're alive. We'll have to work this out later," Angela piped up.

Brennan didn't say anything for a minute, knowing this was true. "If I'm no longer worker here, who's your new forensic anthropologist..?"

She turned as someone came in from the front door.

"Hey everyone, sorry I'm late," Wendell Bray said as he approached them, lab coat in hand. "And who's this fine lady?"

As he looked more closely, he got a sad look on his face. "Don't mind me staring, but you look just like someone I knew…"

"Mr. Bray, it's me," Brennan said impatiently.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed, dropping everything in his hand. "I mean, shoot. I mean, holy crap, Dr. B it's you!" Leaving his stuff on the floor, he gathered Brennan in a hug, which she accepted, laughing at his outburst. "I didn't believe what they were saying on the news and it's just…wow, you're really here aren't you?"

"She's really here," Sweets said, grabbing Wendell's things and handing them to him.

"So, you're the anthropologist that took my spot?" Brennan inquired.

Wendell nodded, not sure how she would take it.

"Well, you were my best intern," she said, smiling. "I'm sure you've been doing a great job."

Wendell gave her a weird look. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Dr. B?" he asked, lightly nudging her.

"Good morning, Mr. Bray," Cam said, suddenly reappearing. "Ready to get started on the case?"

"Oh, the Pratt case? The bones are here already? Then let's get going," he said, scanning his card and walking up to the platform to start examining the bones.

"The Pratt case?" An icy chill spread down her spine as she heard the name of the man who shot her. She turned to Booth. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Booth hated the look she was giving him and it made him feel even more guilty for withholding what little information he knew.

"Hodgins, I need you to take some dirt samples from the body," Wendell called.

"It's not just dirt. It could be soil, sediment, mud. Much more important than just dirt," he called back, but made his way up the platform.

"Everyone else may go off and do their own thing, but stay in the building until we need you on the case. And I'm sorry Brennan, but you can't be around when we talk case details. You're not officially on the case," Cam said apologetically. She walked off to go into her office.

Brennan folded her arms across her chest, glaring at Booth. She felt lost in her own home. Like she didn't belong. Replaced.

"I think this would be a perfect time to talk," Sweets said. "Shall we go to my office?"

* * *

_**Hey, guys, thanks for sticking with me and this story. I'm glad to see the few but new comments. I'm also looking for ideas for new stories. If you have any ideas, please send me a message or post it in a comment or something, thanks :) **_


	14. She's Back, But So Is He

"I want in on this case," Brennan demanded as soon as they were safely behind the closed door of Sweets' office.

"Absolutely no way in hell," Booth said, shaking his head.

"Why not?" she asked, dropping her hands to her sides in frustration. "Tell him he's wrong, Sweets," she said, turning to him.

Sweets calmly took a seat and surveyed the two of them.

"Just because I've been gone for awhile does not mean I've gone completely incompetent," she said, her voice escalating. "I can do this."

She paused, as if realizing something. "Unless you guys don't _want _me to do this. That's it isn't it? I've really been replaced haven't I?"

"No, Brennan, you haven't been replaced." Sweets attempted to regain order. "Why don't we just sit down and we can talk about this rationally-."

"I don't want to talk. I just want to work this case," she said through gritted teeth.

"No!" Booth exclaimed, completely outraged. He walked over so he was standing in front of her and placed his hands on either side of her face. "I can't put you in danger like this. Not again."

She saw the pain and guilt etched on his face. She reached one of her hands up to cover his. "Oh, Booth, you can't protect me forever. I _need_ to do this."

They stayed that way for a moment, the words hanging in the air between them.

Sweets cleared his throat and they broke apart guiltily; Brennan red faced. After hiding their relationship for so long, she wasn't sure she would ever get used to broadcasting it for everyone to see.

"Have a seat?" Sweets said, a bit forcefully. They each took a seat on the all too familiar couch.

"Brennan's right on some points. You can't baby her just because of what happened. It was traumatic for everyone involved, but you would need to find some way to move past that. You would still need to be objective if you two were to ever work together again," Sweets warned.

Booth nodded silently. All the while he was thinking that he would never trust anyone else to take care of Brennan on the job.

"On the other hand Brennan, I'm not sure you're ready to take on this case. It may not be the best ideas. You're still healing- emotionally if not physically- and this is a lot to take on especially since Pratt is still at large.

Brennan sighed impatiently. "I know I can handle this Sweets. I have more of a reason than anyone to want to bring this bastard down; he shot me for God's sake!"

Sweets regarded her with a searching look. He agreed she would be able to do this; no question. She was strong, she always had been and it took a lot to break her.

Finally Sweets spoke again. "I believe you are completely capable of doing this job."

Brennan cheered while Booth immediately protested.

Sweets held up a hand for quiet. "But there are some complications."

"Such as?"

"Well, there is the fact that everyone out there, thinks you're dead. I don't think it would work well in court if you found evidence to take Pratt down and you testify as Dr. Brennan. Not a good idea," Sweets pointed out.

Brennan sat quietly for a minute, processing this. A smile slowly spread across her face.

"I know what we have to do."

* * *

Brennan stepped out the front door of the Jeffersonian, into the bright sunlight. She was flanked by Booth and Wendell, the rest of the crew behind her.

Booth was hanging close. He had a gun strapped to him and he was very antsy, she could tell. It had taken him forever to agree to this plan.

Some quick phone calls to all the right people led to an enormous crowd outside the Jeffersonian. Brennan squinted against the camera flashes and the sunlight.

She remained on the top step of the Jeffersonian, as if to give the crowd a nice look. As soon as she took her spot at the front of the crowd, the loud murmurs immediately died down.

As soon as she opened her mouth to talk, the crowd surged forward to the bottom step, shoving their recording devices into her face.

She steadied her breathing and tried not to freak out.

Booth kept looking around; searching the crowd, looking up and down the street. He felt like he could feel Pratt's eyes on them and he didn't like it. The sooner they got this over with the better.

Brennan looked out over the crowd and took a deep breath as she began talking.

"To put an end to the rumors this morning: I am Temperance Brennan. I was shot last year; however I didn't die as you all thought. I'm not obligated to tell you any of the details at this time. I just want you all to know, I'm back, and I'm here to stay. I will assist this team in bringing Damian Pratt down."

She paused, listening to the rapid fire clicks of cameras, taking in the people's shocked expressions. She looked directly into one of the news cameras.

"And Pratt, if you're watching: We're coming for you."

With that, Booth swept an arm around her, Wendell on the other side and they made their way back inside the safety of the building, questions being thrown at their backs.

Once they were inside, Brennan collapsed in Booth's arms. "That was harder than I thought," she said, giving him a weak smile. "I felt so vulnerable."

Booth gathered her in a tight hug. He placed his chin on the top of her head and stroked her long hair. "I know, I know."

* * *

"This looks delicious, hun," Mark Bower told his wife as he sat down with his kids to dig into dinner.

"I got a 95 on a pop quiz in history today Daddy," his oldest daughter, Michelle, said.

"That's awesome sweetie. Ella, chew with your mouth closed please," he said, addressing his younger daughter.

"Yes, Daddy," she said, laughing.

"How was work today Renee?" he asked his wife.

"Oh, same old, same old," she replied.

The phone rang and Mark jumped up. "Excuse me." He hurried to grab the phone.

"Hello?" he tried to keep his voice steady. He walked into his private office.

"Congratulations, we made the 6 o'clock news," came Pratt's chilling voice over the line.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh come on now Bower, don't you watch the news? Brennan appeared, announcing her return; alive and well to D.C.. Our plan is working perfectly. Good work."

"Thank you sir," Mark replied, dabbing at the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Keep up the good work. You wouldn't want anything to happen to that precious family of yours..would you?"

Mark peeked his head out the door, looking on as his wife helped Ella cut her meat and Michelle was talking animatedly to her mother.

"You stay away from them," he growled.

But it was too late, all he was met with was a dial tone.

* * *

_**So what do you think? Personally, I'm really proud of this chapter; this story's coming along quite nicely if I do say so myself. I don't think I've ever put together chapters so quickly; ideas are just pouring out.**_

_**I don't know whether to feel bad for Mark Bower or to completely hate his guts. Oh, well. Happy readings. **_


	15. Disappeared

_**So sorry, I have some writers block, not cool. But I didn't want to leave you guys hanging. Time to go listen to some 30 Seconds to Mars. Wish me luck.**_

* * *

"Thanks again for letting me assist you in this case," Brennan told Wendell as she snapped on some rubber gloves.

"Oh, no problem Dr. B. It's going to be nice working with you again," he said, doing the same. "So Hodgins already took some samples and is running through them. We can get started examining these." He gestured towards the body on the table.

Brennan sucked in a breath at the sight. It had been awhile since she had worked with bodies, and she had to learn how to detach again. She had to go to that place in her mind that blocked out everything but finding the killer.

It was getting hard to compartmentalize and she wondered why that was. In a second it came to her: Booth.

She glanced over at him. He was leaning against the wall, extremely tense. He had refused to leave her after the news cast, even though she swore she'd be fine.

She caught his eye and he smiled at her, which made her stomach flip flop.

She turned back to the table, forcing her head in the case.

Brennan reached up to tie her long hair into a messy bun as she leaned over the body. She examined them closely for a moment before rendering her analysis.

"I would determine that this is a female between the ages of 25 and 30."

"I would agree," Wendell said. "Look here," he said pointing to the chest cavity. There was too much flesh still on the bone so it was hard to tell, but Wendell moved the flesh around so she could get a good look.

One of the rib bones was nicked and there was a good sizes hole lodged in the vertebrae. In the hole looked to be a sliver left of a bullet.

Brennan grabbed a small tweezers like object from the table behind her. She reached around the skin and bone and clasped the small black sliver. Wendell was already waiting behind her with an evidence bag. She slipped it in and he closed it up.

"We can't do much more with the remaining flesh on here. I'll tell Cam tomorrow, make sure she checks the flesh for anything useful and then Hodgins can get the bones cleaned," Wendell suggested.

"Sounds good, Mr. Bray. Angela can start on the facial reconstruction tomorrow as well," Brennan added, stripping off her gloves.

It was getting late, but she was disappointed that they didn't get much more done. After waving goodbye to Wendell, she made her way over to Booth.

Booth's head was slumped a little onto his shoulder and his eyes were lightly closed. She kissed him into awareness.

"Hey, sorry about that," he said sluggishly. "Long day." He stretched and rubbed his face. "You ready to go?"

She nodded and he slipped his arm around her waist as they went out the door. She leaned into him, feeding off his strength. Though she would never admit it, working on this case was going to take its toll on her. She was already edgy now that Pratt knew she was alive and she was starting to know how Booth felt.

"You want to go get a drink?" he asked her as he put the car in drive.

"Babe, you're exhausted. Let's grab some take out and go home," she said.

"Chinese?"

"You bet."

* * *

Brennan unlocked the door because Booth's hands were full with the Chinese food.

"When are those vultures going to quit?" Brennan complained, referring to the reporters that were flocking everywhere around them.

"Well it's not every day that you come back from the dead," Booth pointed out as he tore open the bag.

"Guess we're going to have to hole up in here for awhile," Brennan said, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around him, leaning her head on his back.

"I wouldn't mind that at all," he said, turning to face her.

He brushed a few stray hairs away from her face and she looked up at him, her eyes searching his face.

"Are you okay?" she asked him. "You're not mad are you?"

"Why would I be mad?" he asked, pulling her into a tight hug. He loved the way her body felt against his, and he didn't ever want to let her go.

"I knew you didn't want me to tell everyone I was alive, but they would have found out anyway. And I think it would be good for me to work on this case, even if Pratt is still out there…" She kept talking, but she was rambling, not sure what he wanted to hear.

"Shh," he said, pressing a finger to her lips. "I'm not mad. I'm worried. If Pratt finds out, I don't want you to get caught in the middle of this again. I refuse to lose you for real this time."

She slowly kissed his fingertips. "I'm not going anywhere. My place is here. With you."

He leaned down and kissed her hard and she instantly responded. He broke the kiss and she was panting.

He made her look at him. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I always am," she scoffed.

"Promise me," he said, serious.

She didn't want him to get upset. Even though she found it unlikely that Pratt would come and take her out _again_ she wanted to pacify him. "I promise Booth."

"Good," he said, and resumed kissing her. "You know I love you right?"

"Mmm," she moaned into his mouth. "I love you, too."

He carried her into the bedroom, all thoughts of food and sleep forgotten.

* * *

It was the middle of the night when he jerked awake in bed.

He lay there a moment, trying to decide what had made him wake up.

He looked over and saw Brennan sleeping soundly beside him. She was lying on her stomach, her bare back exposed. She looked so young lying there, so vulnerable.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, pulling the covers higher over her body. He didn't want to wake her, especially since it was becoming more apparent that everything was okay.

Just as he was lying down to head back to sleep, he heard it. Footsteps.

He reached into the drawer that sat neighboring his bed. He pulled out a gun and quietly cocked it. He eased himself out of bed and pulled on some pants.

The bedroom door was open, and as he watched, a shadow passed looking like it was heading towards the living room.

He raised the gun and quietly crept forward, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the lack of light faster.

He went towards the living room and it wasn't until he heard the creak of a floorboard behind him that he knew he had been wrong.

Something struck him in the back of the head and as he fought to keep consciousness, his last thought was -_Brennan._

* * *

Brennan woke up, chilly. She went to go curl up next to Booth, only to find the bed empty.

She figured he was in the bathroom and she dozed off for a few more minutes.

She awoke with a start, not realizing she had fallen asleep. She was surprised to find that Booth was still not here.

Her stomach growled and she remembered she hadn't had dinner last night. It brought a smile to her lips when she thought about what she had been doing instead.

She got up and stretched, slipping on the first pair of clothes she came in contact with.

She headed into the kitchen, expecting Booth to be making coffee or getting breakfast himself. "Booth?"

The Chinese food sat on the table untouched and Booth was still nowhere to be found. She glanced at the clock; he shouldn't be at work yet.

She stepped around the table, heading to the front door. She felt a prick on her feet and looked down to find glass shattered on the floor, the front door wide open.

She leapt back, already forgetting the glass embedded in her bare foot.

"Booth? Booth?" she screamed his name. An uneasy feeling had shot into her stomach, leaving no appetite.

How could something like this happen and she would not notice? She cursed herself for being such a sound sleeper.

She limped over to the phone and picked it up. She dialed 911 and reported a break-in and kidnapping.

She managed to stay calm until what she had just discovered had sunk in.

An icy feeling crawled up her spine.

This was Pratt's doing. Which meant this was all her fault.

She collapsed on the floor, in the glass, cutting up her arms and hands. She sobbed, calling out Booth's name until the police arrived.

* * *

**_Oooh, I just love me some cliffys! I won't torture you guys for long, as long as my writer's block dissapates. I think some reviews would definately help...:)_**

**_I wanted to thank you guys for over 1,000 views on this story. I'm glad you all really like it! Thanks again :) _**

**_xoxo  
Janelle _**


	16. The Clue In The Skeleton

_**Hey guys. So after a lot of music and a lot of rewriting, I'm happy to post this chapter. Sorry it took so **__**long, but I hope you enjoy! :)**_

* * *

Booth groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. 

He didn't open his eyes; in case anyone was there, he didn't want to alert them that he was awake.

As he slowly became aware of things, the pain in the back of his head surfaced leaving him with a splitting headache. Another groan passed his lips, this one coming out before he could stop it.

He tried to reach back and feel his head, but that was when he realized he couldn't move his arms. He wiggled around; nope his legs were immobile as well.

He carefully opened his eyes, but it was dark and he couldn't see anything. His right cheek was pressed against the cool cement floor of wherever he was.

After a bit of a struggle, he was able to hoist himself up into a sitting position. He tried to work his hands free, but he soon realized it wasn't rope that was binding him, it was handcuffs. He stopped moving too late and the cuffs bit deep into his wrists. He felt a warm trickle slowly spreading down his wrists and over his hands. He cursed.

Just as his eyes were adjusting to the pitch darkness, a blinding light flashed on, illuminating the whole place.

Booth squinted against the sudden onslaught of light and he saw someone approach him.

"Good, you're awake," a voice said.

It was a familiar voice but not instantly recognizable. Booth had to blink a few times before everything came into focus.

A man in a tasteful suit and tie was leaning against the wall a few feet away from where he sat, which he could now see was the middle of a large empty room.

The man was playing absentmindedly with the clip of his gun, sliding it in and out with an audible _click._

Finally, Booth was able to connect the face with a name. "Government Agent Mark Bower. Guess I should have seen that one coming. Always thought there was something fishy about you," Booth said, playing it cool on the outside, but he was boiling on the inside. The same bastard who managed to get Brennan out of the country, convincing everyone that she was dead.

Bower fixed him with a steely glare. "Shut up, no one suspected a thing. They still don't, which is why you're in a pretty tricky predicament here."

But Booth was not to be silenced. He wasn't going to take shit from this guy. As soon as he was out of these handcuffs, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Booth had to admit, this was a change from what he thought was going to happen. He expected to wake up to Pratt, not Bower...He decided to try and get some answers.

"So, are you working for Pratt now?"

He was met with a stony silence.

"I've got to say, that's an interesting switch of careers. But I guess working in the government just isn't putting the bread on the table anymore, huh?" he said sarcastically.

In a flash, Bower was at Booth's side, using the butt end of his gun to whack Booth across the face.

He felt something in his nose snap and he fell back on his side, falling heavily on his shoulder. Bower's rough hands grabbed him by the shirt, and he was jerked back into a sitting position, his face inches from Bower's.

He could feel the blood trickling into his mouth and resisted the urge to gag at their proximity. "You keep your mouth shut about my family."

Booth didn't even bother to reply. He mustered up the energy to spit the blood that was pooling in his mouth right onto Bower's face.

Bower leapt back in disgust, wiping at his face furiously.

He was advancing on Booth when another voice said, "Enough."

This voice Booth recognized all too well. It sent a chill rippling though his body and he saw red, thinking of the hell this man- no this monster- put him through for the past year.

He took a deep breath, eyes catching the face of the cold hearted killer. "Damian Pratt, in the living flesh," he said after he spat some more blood onto the floor.

"Surprised?" Pratt asked, seemingly unaffected.

"Not at all," Booth said. This back and forth was killing him. He needed to get out of here. He should be at home with Brennan…

Oh, Bones. He hoped she was okay. At least Pratt was toying with him this time. As long as he left her alone, everything would be okay. As long as she was safe.

"Don't you just love this place? Too familiar isn't it?" Pratt said, pacing around Booth, gauging his reactions.

Booth really took a look around. The place that had seemed like a stranger was really a place where he had been a little over a year ago. When he knelt in a sea of Brennan's blood as she lay dying in his arms.

Booth's body tensed up and he tried lunging for Pratt who stayed just out of reach.

It only increased Pratt's fun and he laughed cruelly, knowing he had the upper hand. "Thought you might like it."

"So, little Tempe is back. Of course, _I_ knew she was alive this whole time. I never gave up tracking her you know. I was just bidding my time, waiting for the precise opening."

Booth clenched his jaw in an effort to stay quiet. It was everything he could do not to shoot his mouth off, but he knew it would do nothing.

"But this little bitch ruins my plans by coming back here, and that just won't do. It's time to stop this bitch once and for all," Pratt snapped, stopping right in front of Booth.

"You better stay the hell away from her," Booth snarled. He had never felt so much hatred for someone as he did this man. He wanted to stop him, at all costs. "You'll never get her. She'll be under protection now."

Pratt cackled again, causing Bower to jump from where he had blended in with the shadows.

"Why do you think I brought you here, Booth?"

Booth froze, finally seeing what Pratt was doing. How could he have been so blind? He was a step behind as usual.

"I'm not going to get her. She's going to come to me, all on her own. Thanks to some little clues I've left behind, she'll come to save you," Pratt said, confident that this plan would follow through.

Booth lashed out, thrashing on the floor. "Leave her alone! You bastard, you deserve to be rotting in the ground right now!"

He kept on screaming, right up until Bower came from behind and gagged him, taping something across his mouth. A kick to the stomach left him gasping for air and he had to stop wasting air to suck as much as he could through his nose.

The lights went out once again and Booth listened as Pratt's footsteps faded, leaving his laughter echoing through his mind.

* * *

"Brennan, sweetie, we're all worried about Booth, but I think you should leave it to the cops to investigate," Angela tried to get through to her friend, but she was having none of it.

"I can't just leave Booth's life up to the cops, Ange. I need to do something. He's out there because of me."

Brennan had called Angela after the police took her statement, not knowing where else to turn. Angela had picked her up and brought her to the lab at her request.

Brennan had been wracked with guilt since this morning, a crushing wait that would not lighten up. It was her fault that he was out there, and she was going to help get him back.

So here she was, at the lab, leaning over the now pearly white bones of the skeleton they had found the day before. She was convinced there was some clue lying in the depths of this skeleton and she was going to tease it out.

She sat back and rubbed her eyes in frustration.

"Come on, Bren," Angela tried again. "You've been at it for hours. You might as well take a break; the cops aren't going to let you out of their sight anyway."

"I don't care," Brennan answered, distracted. The skeleton was normal, following the age pattern that Pratt was into.

So what was so different? She felt an almost personal tug to this murder victim.

Something clicked. "How does Pratt usually kill his victims?" Brennan asked, desperately spinning around to face Angela.

"What? Oh…well he rapes them. And then shoots them in the side of the head," Angela said, shivering at the thought. "Why?"

"Did Hodgins get the dirt samples back?" she asked, ignoring her question completely.

"Yes, although I think he said it wasn't dirt, something made of a lot of particulates that I can't remember, but I think the English name for it was cement," Angela said, furrowing her brow in concentration. "Why is this so important?"

"Because," Brennan said, exasperated that Angela hadn't caught on. "This victim was shot in the chest, not in the head. She was also found with cement particles on her body." She looked at Angela pointedly.

Angela just shook her head, still not following.

"I was shot in the chest, at the warehouse-,"

"That has cement flooring! Oh my gosh, you think that's where he has taken Booth?" Angela asked, but Brennan was already on the move again, stripping off her lab coat and latex free gloves.

"That's got to be where he took Booth," she said, having a feeling in her gut. Booth always told her to trust that feeling, and she was going by his words.

"Well, you can't just go waltzing over there demanding Booth back. That's not how these things work," Angela said sternly. "Why don't you just tell the cops what you found?"

"Yeah, I'm sure that will go over well. That I suspect that they're keeping Booth based on my gut feeling?" It sounded bad, even to her.

She needed to get out there and save Booth on her own. She knew Angela was just being overprotective and she loved her for it, but she needed to get out from Angela's guard.

Brennan tried a different tactic. "You know, you're right," Brennan sighed, resigned. She let out a huge, fake yawn. "Can we go to your house? I'm exhausted and I don't feel safe going back to Booth's apartment."

She hated lying to her best friend, but in this case, it was a matter of life or death and assuming she came back alive, she knew Angela would forgive her.

Angela bought it hook line and sinker. Brennan could see the sweet relief on her plain on her face. "Alright, let's get going," Angela said, leading her way to the van.

* * *

Brennan finally managed to convince Angela that she would be fine in the guest bedroom, taking a nap while she cared for Cameron, whom she had yet to meet.

She waited a few minutes, listening to Angela's footsteps fading down the hall. Brennan loved how the house was so big; perfect for her escape.

Brennan stuck her head out, checking if the coast was clear. It was and she snuck easily downstairs.

She swiped one of Hodgins' sport car keys (leaving the van for Angela and the baby) and somehow made it out of the house without being caught.

Angela wouldn't check on her for hours, thinking she'd be in a deep slumber. Little did she know that Brennan wouldn't be sleeping until Booth was safe once again.

_-Hang on, Booth. I'm coming, _she declared silently as she revved the engine.


	17. Rescue Gone Awry

_**So, this story is going to be winding down a little. I'm not sure exactly how many chapters are left, but there aren't many. I'm not ending the story for good, though. I'm already working on the sequel which I'm sure you'll be thrilled about. Thanks for being so supportive of everything; your comments are amazing!**_

* * *

"She should have been here by now."

Pratt was getting impatient. "You said she would be able to figure out the clues," Pratt said accusingly as he and Bower stood outside so Booth wouldn't hear their conversation. Pratt wasn't worried about being caught; no one was around here anymore and it was thickly shrouded by trees in the back.

"She will, don't worry," Bower said, stamping his feet to ward off the cold. The stars glinted overhead.

"She better, for your sake," Pratt said, unflinchingly. "Anything goes wrong, and you'll be buried six feet under."

They heard tires squeal and the soft but unmistakable sound of tires on gravel, very close.

Bower peeked his head out around the building. "Told you she'd be here," he said triumphantly, but inwardly, he felt a crushing relief.

"Show time," Pratt said, flashing a nasty grin.

* * *

Brennan jerked the car to a stop outside the warehouse that she had been shot at a little over a year ago. If anyone had asked her if she'd ever return to this place, she would have said no way in hell.

Funny how situations like that change so quickly.

For a minute, all she could do was sit, frozen, her mind threatening to take over with horrid thoughts and memories.

She shook them off, telling herself that Booth needed her and to get over it.

She got out of the car shakily, mutedly closing the door. She suspected Pratt already knew she was here.

She wondered if he was watching her right now. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder.

She approached the door, her shoes crunching over the rocks.

She took a deep breath and went inside, knowing full well that this might be the time that she wouldn't come out alive.

Inside was dark, pitch black, and she stood immobile from head to toe. Her ears worked overtime for her blind eyes, trying to pick up the things she wasn't seeing.

A muffled sound came from her left and she blindly felt the wall for a light switch. Finding one, she switched it on.

A single light bulb went on in the middle of the warehouse, illuminating only a small portion. The light bulb swung lightly on the string it was hanging down from, which was eerie because there was no wind.

"Booth?" she called out tentatively.

_Mphfmph. Mhhhhphm!_

"Oh my God," she whispered, rushing to his aid immediately with no thought to her own safety.

She knelt down beside him, ripping off the gag that was over his mouth.

He coughed blood into his hand, taking a few ragged breaths.

She threw herself on him, giving him a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay!" she cried, trying to wipe away some of the blood.

He pulled away. "You shouldn't have come here. He's here and-,"

"Why if it isn't Temperance Brennan," Pratt's sneering voice came from somewhere just out of reach of the bulbs dim light.

Brennan pulled out the gun she had taken to carrying since she got out of town. She made herself point the gun in the direction that his voice came from. She stood in front of Booth, protecting him as best as she could.

"You stay back," she tried, but even she could hear the waver in her voice.

"What? We can't just be friendly?" he asked her, finally stepping into the small circle of light.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she stepped back, terrified. She never thought she would come face to face with Damian Pratt ever again. She was not expecting to freeze up when she faced him, but he was just a terrible man and it just made her want to bring him down all the more.

"You did just kidnap Booth so forgive me if I'm not up to being polite," she snapped.

Her hand was shaking and she hoped that Pratt didn't notice. But he was like a wolf that smelled fear and she knew he could tell that she was terrified of him, no matter what front she put on.

A noise came from behind and she spun around and came face to face with Mark Bower.

"Mark? You're in on this too?" Brennan asked quietly.

Booth could feel the resolve going out of Brennan. The man that she had literally trusted with her life had been working against her. He knew she was confused and hurt, but he needed her to focus if she wanted to get out of here alive.

"Brennan," he started in a comforting tone, and that's when he saw Pratt edging his way towards her. "Look out!" he screamed, but it was too late.

Pratt caught her, wrapping his meaty arm around her throat, the other sliding down her arm with the gun.

She struggled against him, hating the feel of him, but he was too strong.

Booth looked on helplessly, trying to think of something he could do.

"Drop the gun," Pratt hissed in her ear.

She refused to let go, not wanting to give up the only way she may be able to get out of there.

But he left her no choice. He twisted her wrist painfully and she felt something pop. She let go with a little gasp. It clattered to the floor and landed with a thud.

She bit her lip to hold back her tears. "You have me, just let Booth go. Please."

She hated begging for anything, always thinking she was too strong for something like that. But she needed Booth to be okay. That would make everything right again.

"I don't think so. We're going to have some fun with Agent Booth today. And you my dear are going to get a front row seat," Pratt chuckled, dragging her backwards. "Here let me get you settled."

With one last effort, Brennan tried to escape. She aimed a spot on kick, but he deflected it easily. She wondered how he knew all her moves even before she did them.

She struggled with all her might, but she really couldn't beat him.

She finally succumbed to whatever he was doing.


	18. Torture Chamber

There Brennan was, dangling like a fish on a hook.

Her arms were tied at the wrists high above her head, and the wrist that Pratt had twisted was jerked painfully. Her legs were resting right above the ground and it was pulling on her arms.

After Pratt had tied her up, he and Bower had disappeared somewhere, leaving her alone with Booth in the middle of the room.

Booth looked over at Brennan, whose head was hanging down, her hair obscuring her face.

"Bones, you okay?" he asked. It killed him to see her like this; tied up and she looked so tired, like she had given up. "Brennan?" he said again in an effort to make her look at him.

She slowly looked up, eyes shining, face pale. "I'm so sorry Booth. This is all my fault."

"No, shh," he said comfortingly. He did his best to scoot closer to her. He used his shoulders to allow her to relieve some pressure off her arms. "This isn't your fault. He's a psychopath and a killer that needs to be stopped."

She opened her mouth to say something, but a door opened somewhere and Pratt returned, cutting their conversation short.

"Where's your little minion?" Booth asked, referring to Bower who had become MIA.

"He's taking care of some things," Pratt waved a hand dismissively. "Are you ready to play, Booth?" he said, sickeningly.

"Leave him alone," Brennan said, finding the strength in her voice. She wasn't afraid for herself anymore. She didn't care what he did to her; all she wanted was Booth safe.

"Ah, love. Such a sweet and utterly stupid thing," Pratt said. "It will only get you hurt. Enjoy the show Brennan."

Pratt walked over to Booth, grabbing him off the floor and dragging him over to the wall where the master switch was. He flicked it on.

The room was relatively empty. There were some boxes scattered around and a white tub off in the corner. It didn't look much different from when she was here last.

She started thrashing around, trying to loosen the ropes on her wrists, but to no avail. She screamed obscenities at him, but he hardly blinked.

She was forced to watch as Pratt dragged Booth over to the grimy looking tub. She couldn't see in it, but she assumed it was filled with water.

Without another word, Pratt slammed Booth's head down, forcing it under the water and keeping it there.

"How long do you think he can stay down there? Can he hold his breath long?" he asked Brennan maliciously.

Brennan knew what he was doing now. By torturing Booth, he was torturing her. She needed to stop this.

She watched, eyes wide with horror as the seconds grew longer and Pratt still left Booth there. She began to scream.

* * *

Booth saw the water looming up and took a huge breath before his face was plunged in the water. It was ice cold and it sent pricks into his lungs. His t-shirt got drenched on the shoulders.

He was fine down there for about a minute, not needing the air. He heard Brennan screaming up above, but it was muffled.

He wasn't sure how long he was down there, but it was starting to get uncomfortable and his lungs began screaming in protest. He started struggling against Pratt's arms that were holding him secure.

Just when he thought he was dead for sure, Pratt dragged him up.

The air burned his airway and lungs as he sucked it down greedily. He couldn't get enough down and he coughed which scorched his airways even more.

He shuddered with the cold, coughing and trying to breathe. Before he knew it, he was being dragged under the water again.

This time, he didn't take a deep enough breath and could only stay under for about 30 seconds. He started inadvertently sucking in water. He could feel it filling up his lungs…

He flung himself back with all his force and Pratt let go, letting him fall hard on his back on the floor.

Lying on the floor, he knew he looked pitiful, dripping water and coughing it up all over the place. He shivered violently.

"Had enough?" Pratt directed his question to Brennan.

"Yes, yes," she sobbed. "Please stop, let him go!"

Booth didn't like hearing her cry and he tried to give her a reassuring look to show that he was okay. But he wasn't sure that he was okay himself.

"Well, we aren't done yet," Pratt said. "We're just getting started."

Pratt bent over and unlocked the arm and leg cuffs that had been keeping Booth restrained, tossing them off to the side, out of reach.

Booth stayed on the ground, still not feeling well.

"Get up," Pratt said menacingly, but Booth didn't move. "Get up!" Pratt roughly dragged him to his feet.

Booth was unsteady on his feet, but he managed to stay upright, although he was a bit dizzy. He put a hand to his throat, rubbing furiously.

"Let's fight, Booth. Show her how tough you are, hmm?" Pratt teased. He laughed, and it echoed all over the warehouse.

If Booth had been at his full strength, he would have charged Pratt and probably would have been able to take him down. But now he was weak and it was all he could do to dodge Pratt's first blow.

Booth knew this might be his only chance to save both himself and Brennan. He summoned all the rest of his remaining strength and went at Pratt, throwing well aimed punches and even hitting him a few times.

He felt the satisfying crunch of his fist against Pratt's nose and then hit a swift uppercut against his chin. Pratt's neck jammed back and when he straightened, he looked at Booth with a murderous expression and that's when Booth knew he was in trouble.

Pratt knocked him onto the floor and got on top of him, hitting him repeatedly. Booth could barely put up his arms in time to protect his face. Pratt kicked him in the stomach and stepped on his arm, crunching it.

Booth couldn't help but let out a scream as left arm broke into what felt like a million shards of bone. Booth got one more kick to the head, leaving him conscious but only barely.

He couldn't get up, not even when Pratt went and advanced on Brennan who had tears streaming down her face and was screaming, her high pitched ones blending with his in a sickening two part harmony.

He heard Brennan screaming his name, trying to make sure he was okay, but he couldn't answer. Mostly because he didn't want to lie, and he didn't think he was okay.

To be honest, he didn't think either one of them was going to make it out alive, and that made him sick, his tears mixing with the blood as it ran down his face.


	19. Safe

"What fun that was," Pratt sneered as he advanced on Brennan. "Wasn't that just great?"

She didn't answer; she was sobbing too hard and she was barely coherent anyway. She couldn't tear her eyes from Booth who was squirming on the floor, his arm bent at an odd angle. She could tell he was fighting to keep consciousness.

"Now it's your turn to play," Pratt said. He pulled a long knife out of his pocket.

Brennan silenced her screams and gasped. She wanted to close her eyes if this was how it was going to end, but she couldn't make herself do it.

But instead of going for her throat, Pratt searched above her and cut the rope that had been holding her up.

Her wrists were still bound and she fell to a heap on the floor.

Booth made a move to go to her, but Pratt was once again a step ahead.

Bower appeared out of nowhere, holding a gun to Booth's head. "Don't move or I'll blow your brains all over this floor."

Booth cursed, but didn't take his eyes off Brennan. He clutched his broken left arm close to his body with his right hand and watched Brennan closely. He wasn't sure what he could do; he could barely move. But he would rather die than see anything happen to her.

Brennan cowered on the floor, hating feeling weak and vulnerable. If it was only her life at stake, she might try harder, but she didn't want Booth to get hurt.

Brennan looked up through wet lashes to catch Booth's eye. At least if she died, she would have gotten to see him.

She shot a death glare at Bower, who still stood unflinchingly holding the gun at Booth's head, daring him to move. Then she turned her attention back to her captor who was looming over her.

She could see the hunger in his eyes as he waited above her and she suddenly knew what he wanted. He wanted to treat her like the rest of his victims.

He was going to rape and kill her.

She tried to skitter backwards, using only her legs as her hands were still immobile.

But he was quick and was on the ground, grabbing her legs and dragging her back towards him. She could feel the cement drag a stinging gouge in her side from rib to hip.

"No, stop! Leave me alone! Let me go!" she cried. She was sobbing and screaming. She wasn't going down without a fight.

She lashed out with her foot and nailed a kick, right against his jaw.

Pratt's head snapped back with the force, his mouth open in surprise.

She had a moment of relief, but it was over as he recovered and slapped her hard against her face.

She didn't cry out; didn't want to give him the satisfaction. But she wished she could reach a hand to her stinging cheek.

She heard Booth start a struggle to get to her as he, too, realized what Pratt's plan was.

Booth screamed as he never had before when Bower grabbed his broken arm and twisted it at an even worse angel. The scream turned to a sickening gurgle when Bower pistol whipped the side of his head.

"Bones get out of here! Go!" he yelled over and over, and when she heard the panic in his voice, she knew this was for real.

Her life was on the line.

* * *

Angela was up early, as usual, to care for Cameron.

She gave a sleeping Hodgins a kiss on the forehead as she got up to tend to Cam's wailing.

She passed the guest bedroom's closed door and hoped Brennan had a somewhat nice sleep. She made a mental note to check on her after she fed the baby.

Cameron's cries turned to whimpers as he saw his mother.

She hoisted him out of the crib, changed his diaper and made her way down the stairs.

After she fed and burped Cam, she placed him in the pack 'n play and went to go check on Brennan. She was surprised she was still sleeping with all the noise. Hodgins was used to it and barely flinched anymore.

She knocked lightly on the door. "Brennan, sweetie? You up?" she called out as she opened the door.

It creaked open slowly and she peered in to find the room empty, sheets unwrinkled, not slept in. She'd been gone since last night.

"Shit. What the hell Brennan?" She cursed her best friend as she reached for the phone and dialed the police.

* * *

It was strange. It was like she blocked out the rest of the world, instead trying to fend off Pratt with all she had.

Booth's yells had faded and so did all her pain. Her mind was sending one message: Don't let him touch you.

So she fought with all her might, twisting and writhing on the ground to try and escape.

Finally, Pratt had had enough and pulled a gun out of some previously concealed spot.

The safety went off with a barely audible, but menacing click and she froze. He aimed the gun right in the middle of her forehead.

"Now, you're going to sit there and take whatever I give you," he panted. "And if you don't, he'll shoot him," he finished, jutting his chin at Bower and Booth. "Understand?"

When she refused to answer him, he grabbed her hair, forcing her face close to his. "Understand?" It was practically a hiss.

She once again looked at Booth. He was still screaming and shaking his head animatedly, but she couldn't hear the words. She loved him too much to let anything happen to him, and if that meant succumbing to Pratt, she would have to do it. He would do it for her.

She closed her eyes and nodded.

She heard the anguish creep into Booth's voice, but she blocked it out. She blocked it all out.

She was floating above her body, mind numb.

She wasn't numb enough though. She felt him as he forced himself into her. She could hear him grunting and panting on top of her. It hurt, unlike when Booth handled her, so gently, so delicately.

She couldn't look at him now. If she did, she would cry and scream and break down. So she kept her eyes firmly closed.

Finally, it was over.

Pratt left her there, shaking on the ground. She felt ashamed, disgusted, _worthless. _

He stood above her, hovering with his gun.

"You'll never be able to get evidence against me again," he told her, taking aim.

Sirens and lights blasted from outside, spooking Pratt.

"Shit, Bower, we gotta get out of here!" Pratt said, abandoning Brennan on the floor and tried to exit. "The place is surrounded!" he yelled, letting off another stream of colorful curses.

He faded into the dark, hiding until he found the perfect opportunity, the perfect opening to escape into the early morning sun.

Before Bower could react, Booth kicked his legs out from under him. Bower fell with a thud to the ground and he accidently squeezed the trigger and sent off a random shot that didn't hit anything.

Booth didn't care; he needed to get to Brennan. The image of Pratt on her still burned in his mind. And he blamed himself again.

He scrambled on his one good arm and knees to her side. He hoisted her quivering body up to him and held her tight, gently rocking her. "Its okay, it's okay," he repeated, but he didn't believe it. Nothing felt okay anymore.

With a bang and a shudder of the warehouse, the cops made their entrance.

_Put your hands up. I repeat, put your hands where I can see them! Drop your weapon!_

Booth looked up to see Bower still clutching the gun, aimed at Booth's head. The guy just didn't quit.

A moment later, Bower's body lay unmoving and bleeding on the floor with a bullet to the brain.

"Where did he go?" a cop appeared in front of Booth, demanding.

Booth pointed woodenly towards the last place he saw Pratt disappear to.

The place was a frenzy of police officials trying not to let Pratt slip through their fingers once again.

Brennan's eyes flickered and focused on his face. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he said, crying quietly. He saw his tears fall into her hair.

She seemingly thought about this for a moment. "Safe?" she asked him.

Booth looked around and saw paramedics dressed in white hurrying towards them.

He used his good hand to brush her hair back from her sweaty forehead and nodded.

"Safe."

* * *

_**Ahh, the horror is finally over! At least for now…You think they caught Pratt? At least Bower's dead right? **_


	20. The End

**_Sorry, I know you guys didn't like reading about what happened to Brennan, but it plays a part in this chapter and in the sequel, so it had to happen. But I hope you guys like this chapter; it's much better :)_**

* * *

Brennan blinked her eyes, coming fully awake for the first time in days. She was dismayed to find herself in a hospital bed again so soon.

"Oh my gosh, you're awake!" Angela exclaimed, instantly pulling a chair up to her bedside. "How are you feeling?"

Brennan tried to talk, but could barely get a sound out. "Waaa-," she managed, gesturing limply at the water pitcher.

Angela quickly filled up a cup, holding the straw as Brennan drank.

"How long have I been in here?" she asked Angela when she finally found her voice.

"About 4 or 5 days," she answered. "We've all been taking shifts staying with you and Booth."

"How is Booth?" she asked, eagerly wanting to see for her own eyes that he was okay.

"He's in pretty rough shape, but you know Booth," Angela said with a small smile.

"He's a fighter," Brennan agreed.

"I'm also very upset with you," Angela said, furrowing her brows. "Don't ever sneak out of my house like that again!"

"I'm sorry, Ange, but Booth was out there. You'd do the same if it was Hodgins out there," she pointed out.

"Fine," Angela admitted begrudgingly.

"So, fill me in on everything. What happened after we got out?" Brennan asked, wanting to fill in the gap in her memory.

"Well," Angela began, leaning back and crossing her legs. And she went on to explain.

Turns out Angela had discovered Brennan missing and immediately knew that Brennan had gone to the warehouse. She called the police and they went to the warehouse. The police had shot Bower because he had a weapon in his hand; they had no clue Bower was a rogue agent, and were still apologizing on his behalf.

The police scoured the place, searching for Pratt…and they had found him hiding beneath some boxes, trying to escape! He was being held without bail, and with the proof they have from Booth and Brennan, he would be going to jail. For life.

"So, he can never hurt you again," Angela finished.

Brennan felt as if a weight was lifted off her shoulder. It was nice knowing he couldn't go after her anymore. But she wouldn't think about him anymore, it was over.

"Thank you, Angela. You saved our lives, I don't know how I can ever repay you," Brennan said expressing her greatest appreciation.

"Oh, please," Angela said dismissingly.

Brennan jumped at the knock on the door. Angela gave her a funny look and called out, "Come in!"

A nurse in blue scrubs came in. "Are you up to having a visitor? He's been hassling the nurses since he woke up. He really wants to see you," she said with a polite smile.

"Sure," Brennan said, biting her bruised lip to keep from laughing.

Booth came in, stepping around the nurse. "Thanks, Cindy," he told her, giving her one of his special smiles and she blushed and made her exit.

"I'm going to go get some coffee, meet up with Hodgins," Angela said, dismissing herself. "I'll see you both later."

Brennan gave Booth the once over, chuckling as she could see him doing the same.

Booth had a bruise spread over his nose and right cheek, but he looked better without all the blood there. She noticed the red cuff marks circling his right wrist. His left arm up to his elbow was covered in a black cast with a blue sling over it, pinning it to his chest. He told her of his almost broken rib and the water they had to pump out of his lungs.

Brennan had her sprained wrist in a brace, and with the medication, the pain wasn't so bad. The deep gash in her side stung every time she moved; the hospital gown irritated it even more. Like Booth, she had red marks around her wrists, but this was from the rope that had held her. She had a bruise spreading across her cheek, spreading like blush along her cheekbone.

They were bruised and battered, but alive and that was all the mattered.

Booth crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed. She sat up as best she could and kissed him lightly, so as not to disturb either one of them.

They sat in silence for a moment, thankful that they were both here to share this moment.

"Did you hear?" she asked him. "They caught him." She couldn't even say his name.

He nodded. "How are you feeling?" he asked her, not wanting to talk about Pratt.

"A little nauseas actually, but I'm happy to be alive," she told him. "How about you?"

"About the same," he said. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you," he said, pulling her into a hug. "So sorry."

"It's not your fault! I would never blame you, if anything I blame myself."

He silenced her with a kiss. "We can talk about this later," he told her.

Another knock sounded at the door, only this time a doctor came in.

"Ah, Mr. Booth, I see that you've coerced my nurses into letting you in here. I should have known that was coming," the doctor said, holding his clipboard down by his side.

He came over and shook hands with Brennan. "Dr. Matthews. Nice to see you up and about so to speak, Ms. Brennan."

Booth noticed that Dr. Matthews was acting a little strange. "Something wrong Doc?" Booth asked.

"Well, I just came to talk to Ms. Brennan about some questioning test results we have. I have to ask you to leave, Mr. Booth," Dr. Matthews said.

Brennan felt booth tense up and she hurried to remedy the situation. "No, it's okay. I want him here."

"So what about the test results? Is she okay?" Booth asked, concerned.

"Oh yes, everything is fine. It's good news actually. Ms. Brennan, I'm going to name some symptoms, stop me if any apply to you."

"Okay," she said slowly, confused.

"Fatigue, backaches, nausea-,"

"I am actually nauseas, and I've also had some headaches. I guess I'm pretty tired, too. But I thought this was all part of recovering and healing. I thought the medicine was making me nauseas…" she trailed off when she saw the doctor's smile.

"Under normal circumstances, we would assume it was the medicine causing these symptoms, but after we took some blood, we have determined that you are pregnant, Ms. Brennan," Dr. Matthews said.

"What?" Booth said, the excitement palpable in his voice. "Really?" He looked at Brennan with eyes shining.

"I'll leave you to alone," Dr. Matthews said, bowing out.

Brennan felt a confusing mix of emotions. Elated that she was pregnant, but the other half felt like a bucket of cold water was doused on her head.

Booth however, was so excited. "Brennan this is great! We can finally start a family," he grabbed her good hand with his.

Then he saw her face and he frowned. "What's wrong? Aren't you happy; don't you want this?"

Tears were pooling in her eyes and she realized she was sick of crying. "No, Booth I do want to start a family with you, and under normal times, this would be great, but…"

"But what?" Booth asked, not understanding.

"He _raped_ me, Booth," she choked out. She looked him in the eye, a tear finally falling. "What if the baby is _his_?"

.THE END.

* * *

_**Well, that was it. Did you guys like it? I hope so. I want to thank all of you who followed by story and commented/alerted/favorited…it meant the world to me that I have such loyal readers. **_

**_So, leave a comment and tell me if you think the baby is Pratt's or Booth's and if it is a boy or a girl! _**

_**And SURPRISE! There's going to be a sequel that I'm already writing right now, so you won't even have to wait too long. **_

_**Thanks again everyone, and stay tuned for the sequel called "Come Home." **_

_**xoxo  
Janelle **_


	21. Author's Note Sequel News

_**Hey guys, **_

_**Just in case you didn't know, I just posted the sequel to "Without You," called "Come Home." I decided to tell you guys on here, so you didn't miss it. I hope you guys continue to read and leave great comments; I love to read them. Anyway, just thought I'd fill you guys in, so I didn't keep you in suspense. Enjoy reading! **_

_**xoxo  
Janelle**_


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